A Love  Story  of  the  Orient 

BYELLASUE  CANTER  WAGNER 

Author  of  “Kirn  Su  Bang,**  “ Pokjumie ,'* 
and  Other  Stories  of  Korea 


& 


Nashville,  Tenn. 

Dallas,  Tex.;  Richmond,  Va. 
Publishing  House  M.  E.  Church,  South 
Lamar  & Barton,  Agents 


LIBRARY  OF  PRINC-THM 


JAN  2 3 2008 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Copyright,  1922 

BY 

Lamar  & Barton 


®a 

MY  MOTHER 

whose  love,  self-denial,  and  stead- 
fast faith  in  God  have  been 
a constant  source  of 
missionary  in- 
spiration 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

I.  Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal 7 

II.  A Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Poverty 18 

III.  The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 24 

IV.  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 42 

V.  A Voice  from  the  Dead 47 

VI.  A Family  Council 65 

VII.  A Midnight  Tryst 76 

VIII.  Retrenchments 86 

IX.  A Child  Widow 99 

X.  A Better  Country 105 

XI.  A Christian  Home 114 

XII.  School  Days 126 

XIII.  An  Unwelcome  Visitor 138 

XIV.  To  Make  Doubly  Sure 154 

XV.  Cusagie  at  Home 163 

XVI.  Visitors  at  the  House  of  Kim 174 

XVII.  A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 183 

XVIII.  Love  or  Duty? 194 

XIX.  The  Parting  of  the  Ways 200 

XX.  A Stolen  Bride 208 

XXI.  An  Unknown  Way 212 

XXII.  Lady  Kim 217 

XXIII.  His  Lawful  Wife,  Yet  a Perfect  Stranger 222 

XXIV.  In  the  Home  of  Her  Husband 228 

(5) 


Kumokie— A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


CHAPTER  I 
Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal 

IN  the  early  twilight  the  fierce  heat  of  the  day 
had  ended  in  a smoky  redness  amid  which 
each  rock,  pebble,  and  shell  was  giving  forth  the 
heat  absorbed  from  the  pitiless  blaze  of  the  sun. 
Two  small  fishing  smacks  were  lying  close  to  the 
shore  securely  tethered  together  for  the  night. 
Away  somewhere  between  the  purple  hills  and  the 
sleeping  river  a dog  howled.  Out  across  the  ripple- 
less surface  of  the  sea  many  gray  hulls  and  brown 
sails  lay  motionless  and  calm,  vividly  silhouetted 
against  the  hot,  lurid  sky. 

It  was  one  of  the  hottest  days  of  an  unusually 
hot  July;  the  air  was  laden  with  sickening  odors 
from  the  heavily  loaded  racks  of  fish  drying  by  the 
sluggish,  slime-covered  river;  a few  delated  women 
were  beating  their  clothes  by  the  river  bank;  scrawny 
pigs,  blear-eyed  dogs,  and  naked  children  tumbled 
and  rolled  on  the  beach.  The  diminishing  popula- 
tion of  the  Korean  village  of  Saemal  were  mostly 
fishermen,  whose  boats  and  nets  comprised  their 
chief  worldly  possessions,  and  the  daily  haul  of 
speckled,  spotted  beauties  was  their  stock  in  trade. 
The  main  street  of  the  village  was  nothing  more 
than  a dirty  alley  ending  near  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
which  flowed  from  the  distant  hills  to  meet  the  sea. 
The  brown  and  yellow  of  twoscore  houses  sprawled 

(7) 


8 Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

in  crooked,  snakelike  lines  along  the  sandy  snore, 
grouped  together  with  no  plan,  so  that  the  alleys 
made  many  unbelievable  turns  and  windings  be- 
tween the  mud  walls  of  the  houses,  the  tumble- 
down  gray  roofs,  and  the  stone-encrusted  walls. 

A tall,  well-built  man  came  with  swinging  stride 
along  the  brink  of  the  river,  turned  the  corner  by 
the  fish  racks,  and  passed  into  the  main  street  of 
the  village  of  Saemal  without  a glance  at  the  frolick- 
ing children  or  toiling  women.  He  made  his  way 
along  the  narrow  road  with  bowed  head  and  only 
now  and  then  gave  a frowning  glance  toward  the 
crowded  doorways.  The  steaming  heat  of  the  tiny 
houses  had  driven  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants 
to  seek  a cooler  place,  and  many  of  these  were  sit- 
ting or  lying  on  straw  mats  just  outside  their  door. 
The  hour  of  evening  had  brought  Grandfather  Ye 
home  from  his  rice  field,  and  when  he  reached  his 
familiar  old  wall  he  entered  the  arched  gate  to  the 
women’s  quarters.  With  no  more  greeting  than  a 
deeper  frown  to  the  busy  workers  there,  he  stretched 
himself  full  length  upon  the  mat  spread  invitingly 
near  upon  the  earthen  floor  of  the  open  courtyard 
to  take  a well-earned  rest  for  his  weary  bones. 

Lying  on  the  cool  earth,  he  gave  vent  to  half- 
muttered  grumblings  and  complaints.  The  flies, 
the  heat,  the  buzzing  mosquitoes,  the  delay  of  sup- 
per— all  these  things  exasperated  him  and  added 
fuel  to  his  temper.  His  plaint  was  against  all  hu- 
manity in  general,  but  of  his  “lazy,  good-for-noth- 
ing women  folk  in  particular.”  These  long-suffer- 
ing ones,  Mrs.  Ye  and  her  daughter-in-law,  widow 
of  the  late  lamented  son,  flew  frantically  about  the 


Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal 


9 


courtyard  and  kitchen  lean-to,  preparing  the  evening 
meal.  Kumokie,  the  eight-year-old  granddaughter, 
was  hidden  from  Mr.  Ye’s  vision  by  several  huge 
earthen  jars.  Bethinking  himself  that  a nice  drink 
of  cool  water  would  help  his  feelings,  he  raised  him- 
self upon  his  elbows  and  bellowed  with  all  his  might: 
‘‘Kumok-ah!  Kumok-ah!  You  little  beast;  come 
here!  Why  that  silly  mother  of  yours  wanted  to 
call  you  ‘Golden  Jade’  is  more  than  I can  see — vile, 
disappointing  creature  that  you  are!  I shall  call 
you  ‘Kangajie’  (‘Little  Dog’) — much  more  suit- 
able. Where  are  you?  Come  here,  or  I’ll  beat  more 
speed  into  your  lazy  body.”  All  of  which  was  entire- 
ly unnecessary  and  uncalled  for. 

The  trembling  child  had  been  standing  just  out 
of  sight,  and  at  the  first  call  was  right  there  before 
him,  in  her  hand  a big,  dripping  gourd  of  water. 
With  a weary  grunt  Mr.  Ye  reached  out  his  great, 
hairy  hand,  took  the  water  with  an  impatient  ges- 
ture, and  drank  long  and  deep.  After  his  thirst 
was  satisfied,  he  gave  the  vessel  a sudden  flirt  and 
flipped  the  remaining  water  over  the  child.  Ku- 
mokie was  never  surprised  by  any  such  unaffectionate 
move  on  the  part  of  this  man,  and  so  with  silent, 
childlike  solemnity  she  shook  the  drops  from  her 
hair  and  clothes  while  the  man  roared  with  laughter. 

‘‘Just  exactly  like  a puppy  I used  to  have!  Kang- 
ajie! Here  Kangajie!”  Mrs.  Ye  appeared  at  this 
moment,  carrying  the  traylike  table  with  the  mas- 
ter’s supper,  and  as  he  sampled  the  savory  dishes 
thereon  and  lifted  the  chunks  of  snowy  rice,  his 
temper  improved,  and  he  felt  in  a really  amiable 
frame  of  mind.  By  the  time  his  flying  chopsticks 


10 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


had  emptied  the  rice  bowl  and  disposed  of  the  last 
boiled  fish  he  felt  quite  able  to  discuss  family  prob- 
lems and  important  matters  concerning  the  future 
of  the  house  of  Ye. 

Although  Mr.  Ye  was  a grandfather,  he  was  by  no 
means  an  old  man,  but,  to  the  contrary,  was  in  the 
prime  of  vigorous  manhood.  His  life  was  embit- 
tered and  hardened  by  the  loss  of  his  only  son  a 
few  years  past  and  by  the  fact  that  his  only  grand- 
child was  a girl.  This  balking  of  his  desires  and 
plans  by  an  unkind  fate  was  reflected  in  an  unholy 
temper,  and  “Old  Man  Ye,”  as  he  was  called  by 
his  neighbors,  was  known  by  all  of  them  as  a hard 
old  fellow.  He  was  one  of  the  few  well-to-do  farmers 
of  the  district,  but  he  was  far  too  crafty  and  wise 
to  show  his  wealth.  He  protected  himself  alike 
from  official  extortions  and  exactions  on  one  side 
and  from  family  demands  on  the  other  by  the  ap- 
pearance and  profession  of  poverty. 

The  bowls  and  fragments  of  the  evening  meal 
were  finally  cleared  away,  and  the  kitchen  shed  was 
quiet  for  the  night.  The  tired,  pale-faced  woman, 
whose  only  name  was  “Kumokie’s  mother,”  silently 
withdrew  to  the  tiny  room  across  the  courtyard 
when  the  imperious  call  rang  out  from  the  sarang : 

“Grandmother!  Grandmother!  Don’t  you  know 
I am  waiting  for  you  here?  Why  don’t  you  let  that 
worthless  mother  of  Kumokie  do  the  work  of  a 
daughter-in-law  instead  of  doing  it  all  yourself? 
Sure,  you,  too,  have  to  work  when  we  are  as  poor  as 
we  are,  but  that  lazy  thing  ought  to  do  her  share 
too,”  replied  Mr.  Ye  as  he  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 


Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal 


11 


long-stemmed  pipe  and  proceeded  to  refill  it  with 
finely  shredded  tobacco. 

Timid,  shrinking,  Mrs.  Ye  was  very  different 
from  her  husband,  and  that  gentleman  gave  this 
gentle  little  woman  many  hours  of  care  and  anxiety. 
She  was  as  colorless  and  faded  as  the  sea  on  a rainy 
day.  Her  only  desire  was  to  remain  unobserved 
and  to  keep  from  displeasing  her  lord  and  master 
any  more  than  she  could  possibly  help.  He  was  a 
miser  at  heart,  and  all  the  petty  economies  and 
bitter  hardships  of  the  much-pressed  home  fell 
heaviest  on  her  unprotected,  shrunken  shoulders. 
As  for  the  whereabouts  of  the  secret  hiding  place  of 
the  suspected  gains,  she  knew  no  more  about  it  than 
did  the  others  and  probably  gave  less  thought  to 
the  question,  for  she  had  more  important  and  per- 
sonal matters  to  face.  His  discontent  was  written 
on  every  feature  as  he  sat  and  called  his  wife  that 
evening  with  harsh-voiced  words.  Mrs.  Ye  knew 
that  this  interview  was  not  apt  to  be  a pleasant  one, 
so  it  was  with  visible  timidity  that  she  answered  the 
summons  and  entered  the  stuffy  room  in  which  he 
sat.  She  seated  herself  in  silence.  Her  thin,  tired 
hands  working  and  twisting  within  the  folds  of  her 
apron  were  trembling  evidence  of  the  condition  of 
her  mind. 

“Speak,  woman!  Can’t  you  say  anything?” 

“Yes,  my  lord;  what  shall  I say?”  was  the  low- 
voiced reply. 

“O  well,  of  course!  Who  would  be  so  stupid  as 
to  expect  conversation  from  a woman?  Answer  my 
question  about  your  daughter-in-law.  Why  doesn’t 
she  work?  Every  one  about  this  place  has  to  work 


12 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


to  make  a living.  I really  do  not  expect  you  to  make 
intelligent  conversation,  but  it  is  supposed  that  you 
know  how  to  manage  household  matters.  Hey, 
can’t  you  make  your  daughter-in-law  obey  you? 
Shame!”  The  scolding  voice  rose  to  a perfect 
roar.  “ Do  you  expect  me,  a poor  farmer,  to  support 
a woman  like  that  in  idleness  and  luxury?  A daugh- 
ter-in-law without  a son  ought  to  be  turned  out  alto- 
gether, I say.” 

“Yes,  O yes;  indeed,  she  does  all  she  can,”  wailed 
the  harassed  woman.  “Truly  she  does  all  she  is  able. 
Don’t  you  remember  that  I told  you  how  ill  she  is  at 
times?  Since  it  is  the  great  white  sickness,  I fear  that 
she  may  die  soon.  Did  you  not  say  that  you  could 
not  and  would  not  have  another  funeral  this  year?  ” 

His  injustice  and  seeming  forgetfulness  so  far 
overcame  her  fear  and  timidity  as  to  make  this  long 
speech  possible.  Just  at  this  moment,  as  if  to  justify 
her  defense,  there  came  from  the  room  across  the 
court  the  hollow,  racking  cough  of  a consumptive. 

“O,  don’t  be  afraid  of  that.  She  is  just  playing 
off;  I’ve  seen  the  like  before.  No  danger  of  her  dy- 
ing soon.  That  cough  is  just  put  on.  Just  don’t  pay 
any  attention  to  such  tricks,  and  she  will  soon  stop 
it.” 

But  the  uneasy  look  in  his  eyes  as  he  listened  to 
the  harrowing  sound  from  the  dark  room  across 
the  way  belied  his  brave  words.  After  all,  it  was 
easier  to  keep  a living  woman,  even  though  she  was 
idle,  than  to  bury  a dead  one,  especially  when  she 
ate  next  to  nothing  and  never  had  need  of  new 
clothes. 


Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal 


13 


When  a member  of  the  family  dies,  although  dur- 
ing life  she  may  have  been  only  a despised  and 
abused  daughter-in-law,  a disembodied  spirit  is 
something  to  be  taken  into  consideration;  besides,  a 
funeral  is  a very  expensive  item.  To  be  sure,  it  had 
never  entered  Father  Ye’s  mind  to  try  to  win  love 
and  gratitude  from  that  poor,  tired  heart  while  she 
lived.  It  would  have  given  her  scant  comfort  to 
know  that  when  her  spirit  was  released  from  that 
quivering,  toil-worn  body  every  mark  of  respect 
would  be  given  her,  because,  forsooth,  this  man 
feared  the  harm  she  might  then  do  to  him. 

Mr.  Ye  sat  listening  to  the  uneasy  sound  which 
came  from  the  kunapang  and  frowned  upon  his  wife 
as  though  she  were  to  blame  for  this,  too,  as  for  all 
other  domestic  trials.  But  for  once  her  mind  was 
so  taken  up  with  other  important  things  that  she 
did  not  shrink  from  the  blazing  eyes,  but  sat  quietly 
waiting  until  the  great  question  which  engrossed 
her  thought  should  be  brought  up  for  discussion. 
The  frown  of  the  master  deepened  as  he  looked  at 
this  woman  who  had  been  his  partner  for  thirty 
years  or  more.  Three  sons  and  two  daughters  she 
had  borne  him;  but  only  one  had  escaped  the  dread 
scourge  of  childhood,  the  smallpox  demon.  Now, 
this  last  son,  the  pride  and  joy  of  his  heart,  was  also 
dead,  and  he  was  wondering  again  for  the  hun- 
dredth time  why  he  had  been  such  a fool  as  never 
to  take  another  wife.  Deep  in  his  heart  he  knew 
that  he  would  never  do  anything  that  would  call  for 
such  an  outlay  of  his  precious  money.  One  house- 
hold was  enough  expense;  two  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. As  for  the  patient  little  wife,  she  was  now, 


14  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

as  always,  the  humble  servant.  There  was  no  ques- 
tion of  love  given  or  received.  It  is  to  be  doubted 
if  any  idea  of  wifely  help  above  this  dumb  service 
and  doglike  fidelity  had  ever  entered  her  mind,  or, 
if  so,  such  tender  thoughts  had  been  killed  and 
buried  so  long  ago  that  they  were  forgotten. 

After  several  minutes  of  reminiscent  silence,  Mr. 
Ye  drew  a long  breath  and  asked  with  seeming  in- 
difference: “Well,  did  the  chungmae  [go-between,  or 
professional  matchmaker]  come  to-day?” 

“Yes,  she  came.”  This  brought  up  the  important 
matter  which  was  on  her  mind,  and  the  old  wife  sat 
straighter  and  took  visible  interest  in  this  question. 

“Urn;  very  good.  No  doubt  those  poor  Kims  in 
the  city  are  only  too  glad  to  have  their  son  marry 
our  grandchild  and  become  also  our  adopted  son?” 
This  statement  was  made  with  the  rising  inflection 
of  interrogation,  but  by  these  words  he  revealed 
an  intense  egotism  coupled  with  the  determination 
to  connect  his  family  with  some  of  the  old  aristo- 
cratic blood.  It  was  his  desire  that  the  gold  he 
cherished  and  hoarded  so  carefully  might  build  up 
a great  house  to  the  name  of  Ye  and  do  memory 
to  him  as  the  founder  of  such  an  estate. 

Thus  he  was  not  merely  on  the  outlook  for  some 
man  willing  to  let  his  son  be  adopted  by  another, 
but  he  had  very  definite  ideas  about  what  kind  of 
family  it  should  be  from  which  he  took  this  son. 
After  his  own  boy  died,  this  idea  had  taken  deep 
root  in  his  mind,  and  now  he  was  fully  determined 
to  carry  out  his  purpose.  The  Kims  were  certainly 
one  of  the  best  and  most  aristocratic  of  the  high-bred 
families  in  that  part  of  Korea;  and  since  they  had 


Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal 


15 


long  ago  lost  their  money,  he  had  little  doubt  that 
they  would  receive  his  proposal  gladly. 

‘‘This  woman  says  that  they  are  willing  to  con- 
sider it,  since  they  have  two  older  sons.  But  I am 
not  sure  that  they  are  glad  to  do  it;  for  they  are  ask- 
ing a goodly  sum  of  money  in  exchange,  which  I am 
sure  you  will  not  be  willing  to  give,  or,  I mean,  which 
you  will  not  be  able  to  grant,  I fear.  Then  they  are 
so  proud  and  high-minded;  she  says  that  they  will 
have  very  little  to  do  with  common  people.” 

The  dark  eyes  opposite  glittered  with  a danger- 
ous light  as  he  snapped:  “The  slave  dealers!  How 
much  do  they  want?” 

“Fifty  thousand  yang.”  The  answering  voice 
was  low  and  sad. 

“What?”  he  fairly  shrieked  in  his  fury.  “Dare 
you  say  that  again!  They  must  know  that  I,  a poor 
man,  have  not  that  much  money!” 

Kumokie,  the  proposed  wife  for  this  prospective 
son,  was  no  more  taken  into  account  in  these  plans 
than  if  she  had  been  some  inanimate  chattel  on  her 
grandfather’s  farm.  He  wanted  a son,  she  was  old 
enough  to  marry,  and  by  this  stroke  of  diplomacy 
these  two  expensive  birds  would  be  killed  with  one 
stone.  There  would  be  one  great,  grand  occasion 
instead  of  two  and  thus  save  money;  that,  as  always 
with  him,  was  an  important  consideration. 

Far  into  the  night  the  conference  continued. 
The  pride  and  stand-offishness  of  the  honorable  Kim 
family  made  it  seem  to  the  plebeian  Ye  a most  de- 
sirable thing  to  form  an  alliance  with  such,  and  he 
was  beginning  to  fear  that  this  aristocrat  was  only 
making  a politer  refusal  to  his  overtures  by  demand- 


16  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

ing  a much  larger  amount  of  money  than  he  thought 
Ye  possessed.  This  fear  was  increased  by  the 
realization  that  it  must  be  a secret  deal;  for  if  people 
heard  of  such  a transaction,  he  would  never  again  be 
able  to  pose  as  a poor  man,  as  poor  as  he  desired 
others  to  think  him  to  be.  The  final  decision  was 
to  offer  twenty  thousand  yang  for  the  privilege  of 
adopting  the  third  son  of  Kim,  who  should  become 
the  husband  of  Kumokie,  or,  which  according  to 
Korean  custom  would  be  the  other  way  around,  the 
husband  of  Kumokie  would  be  adopted  by  her 
grandfather  as  his  heir. 

While  this  discussion  was  under  way  one  of  those 
principally  concerned  was  asleep  in  the  stuffy  little 
kunapang  across  the  courtyard.  She  was  a tiny 
thing  for  eight  years,  almost  a baby.  The  smooth, 
soft  skin,  a creamy  pink  on  throat  and  arms, 
shading  into  a healthy  tan  on  cheek  and  brow,  the 
golden  brown  of  summer  sun  reflected  by  the  sea 
sands.  With  a babyish  movement  she  flung  one 
plump  little  arm  over  her  head.  The  sad-hearted, 
sleepless  woman  watching  by  her  side  stifled  a sob 
and  gathered  the  beloved  form  to  her  heart. 

“O  my  baby!  My  baby!  They  would  sell  you, 
too!  They  would  give  you  in  exchange  for  some- 
thing they  want.  But  they  shall  not  do  it!  They 
shall  not,  I swear  it!  There.  There  now,  precious, 
don’t  cry.  It’s  just  mother.  There.  There,  now; 
go  back  to  sleep.”  This  last  was  accompanied  by  a 
light  tap,  tap  on  her  stomach,  for  the  passionate 
embraces  had  half  waked  the  child.  After  a while 
the  quiet,  regular  breathing  told  that  the  little  one 


Old  Man  Ye  of  Saemal  17 

was  again  in  dreamland,  and  the  mother  took  up 
her  soliloquy. 

“Only  a girl.  Only  a little  girl.  But  you  are  mine 
— all  mine!  Who  else  has  cared  for  you  or  loved  you 
and  protected  you  but  me?  You  are  only  a girl  to 
them — no  good  to  the  family,  only  a burden  and 
expense.  Ah!  But  you  are  my  life.  None  shall 
take  you  from  me,  my  own,  until  they  have  taken 
that  poor  worthless  life  of  mine!  Yes,  but  what  am 
I?  Only  a dying,  helpless  woman.”  This  was 
punctuated  with  painful  coughing  spells. 

What,  indeed,  was  she  to  take  a stand  against  old 
man  Ye?  Homeless,  friendless,  dying,  to  whom 
could  she  turn? 

“O  God  of  heaven,  if  there  indeed  be  such  a God 
who  cares  for  and  loves  us,  have  mercy  upon  me. 
O God,  I don’t  know  how  to  pray,  and  I used  to 
laugh  when  the  people  in  the  great  city  tried  to  teach 
me  about  you.  If  there  isn’t  such  a God,  there 
ought  to  be,  because  we  poor,  helpless  ones  need  one 
so  much.  Hear  me,  O God;  help  me  to  be  a good 
woman.  Save  my  precious  baby  from  the  fate  that 
has  been  mine.  Please  save  Kumokie,  God.  Don’t 
bother  about  me  if  it’s  any  trouble,  for  I’m  all 
worthless  and  am  just  about  to  die;  but  please  save 
my  little  girl.  Amen.” 

2 


CHAPTER  II 

A Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Poverty 

THE  honorable  Mr.  Kim  was  very  nearly  as 
poor  in  this  world’s  goods  as  Farmer  Ye  pre- 
tended to  be,  which  is  saying  a great  deal.  To  be 
as  poor  as  Ye  wished  others  to  believe  him  to  be  was 
to  have  few  comforts  and  no  luxuries  in  life.  Mr. 
Kim  belonged  to  an  impoverished  and  luckless 
branch  of  a wealthy  family.  Noble  blood  ran  in 
his  veins,  blood  as  blue  as  any  in  Korea,  and  for 
many  generations  held  to  be  superior  to  that  of 
ordinary  people.  Marriages,  particularly  those  of 
the  sons,  had  always  been  arranged  with  great  care. 
Daughters,  too,  must  be  well  placed  in  life;  that 
was  a parent’s  manifest  duty.  When  they  were 
married  they  became  part  of  another  tribe  and  as 
such  of  far  less  importance  than  a son. 

Aristocratic  families  have  always  held  great  honor 
in  this  “Land  of  Morning  Calm.”  No  matter  how 
tumble-down  the  fortunes  or  depleted  the  treasury, 
to  be  a yang-ban  is  something  greatly  prized  and  to 
be  reverenced  by  all  comers.  There  comes  a long- 
dreaded  day  to  all  such  when  veneration  for  their 
position  and  nobility,  however,  can  no  longer  call 
forth  a willing  and  ready  loan  of  cash.  What  a 
sense  of  the  divine  rights  of  the  upper  classes  Mr. 
Kim  possessed  to  be  able  to  approach  a friend  like 
Mr.  Cho  when  he  could  scarcely  fail  to  remember 
that  he  has  not  returned  to  him  the  last  loan — no, 
nor  the  loan  before  the  last,  nor  before  that.  When, 
in  fact,  did  he  ever  repay  anything?  Such  sang- 
(18) 


A Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Poverty  19 

froid  is  to  be  admired  even  though  disapproved.  Be 
it  said  to  the  credit  of  our  friend  Kim  that  he 
seldom  held  it  against  a man  that  he  was  unrespon- 
sive to  his  need.  He  was  more  nearly  angry  at  Cho 
for  his  refusal  than  he  had  ever  been  before,  because 
he  expected  better  things  from  him.  Never  before 
had  he  failed  him.  To  be  sure,  Cho  was  a common 
fellow,  but  he  had  made  considerable  money  by 
careful  investment  and  high  rates  of  interest  from 
the  honorable  gentry  in  reduced  circumstances.  He 
calculated  that  it  was  worth  a goodly  sum  once  in  a 
while  just  to  have  this  autocrat  as  a regular  visitor 
at  his  sarang,  and  so  paid  for  it  as  he  would  for  any 
other  commodity  he  wished  to  buy.  This  had  gone 
on  so  long  that  it  was  the  expected  thing.  Kim 
began  to  look  upon  it  as  something  of  a right;  and 
he  had  never  asked  Cho  for  large  sums  of  money, 
though  of  late  his  requests  had  been  more  frequent. 

“Well,  friend,  can  you  let  me  have  a few  cash 
to-day?”  became  such  a common  refrain  that  Cho 
tired  of  it.  At  any  rate,  his  own  position  in  the 
neighborhood  was  quite  assured  now,  and  there  was 
no  further  need  of  social  aid.  Why  should  he  help 
the  beggarly  Kims  any  more?  Thus  argued  Cho  of 
the  money  bags,  and,  upheld  by  the  righteous  de- 
cision, he  stammered  out  an  embarrassed  refusal. 

Angry,  humiliated,  and  surprised,  the  gentleman 
of  leisure  left  the  sarang , and  as  he  made  his  way 
down  the  crowded  city  street  he  mumbled  to  him- 
self: “Things  have  come  to  a pretty  pass  in  this  land 
when  a gentleman  of  uprightness  is  met  with  such 
discourtesy.  It’s  enough  to  make  my  grandfather 
rise  from  his  grave.” 


20  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

It  was  many  years  since  he  had  taken  much 
thought  of  his  resources,  or  rather  his  lack  of  re- 
sources, and  as  long  as  he  was  able  to  borrow  a 
little  here  and  there  or  to  sell  something  of  his  few 
remaining  possessions  he  never  let  such  sordid  de- 
tails of  this  world  bother  him.  Now  in  this  uncere- 
monious way  Cho  had  forced  him  to  regard  this  mat- 
ter and  to  think  of  his  debts  and  to  face  the  future. 

“What  shall  I do?  Of  a surety  I can’t  work. 
That  would  be  a lasting  disgrace  and  is  not  to  be 
thought  of;  besides,  I’m  too  frail.”  He  passed  his 
soft  hands  together  in  a gesture  of  helplessness  and 
bewilderment.  Cho  had  always  been  such  a good 
friend  before  and  had  demanded  neither  interest 
nor  security,  though  other  money  lenders  were  not 
so  considerate,  and  many  and  pressing  were  the 
debts  which  faced  him.  To  one  of  this  man’s 
sanguine  and  optimistic  turn  of  mind  debts,  after 
all,  were  only  an  abstract  sort  of  thing  and  need 
cause  little  worry  unless  they  got  too  pressing,  then, 
to  be  sure,  they  could  be  quite  annoying  and  irritat- 
ing. 

Five  years  before  this  time  Mr.  Kim’s  father  had 
died,  and  he  as  the  only  son  became  head  of  the 
family.  Funerals  and  weddings  are  times  of  great 
importance  in  Korea,  and  many  are  the  homes  which 
have  been  mortgaged,  many  the  families  impov- 
erished for  years  in  order  that  the  head  of  the  family 
should  be  buried  with  fitting  honor  and  ceremony. 
Every  loyal  son  of  old  Korea  is  apt  to  say  that  Kim 
did  only  his  duty  and  fulfilled  his  filial  obligation 
when  he  mortgaged  his  homestead  and  the  one  small 
rice  field  left  of  his  inheritance  and  spent  it  all  in  one 


A Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Poverty  21 

grand  splurge  at  the  father’s  funeral  and  at  the  ap- 
pointed time  of  sacrifice  during  the  two  years  of 
mourning.  None  could  deny  that  the  dying  glory 
of  the  house  of  Kim  flared  up  in  a blaze  of  bright- 
ness and  splendor.  Such  feasting!  Such  wine! 
Food  of  the  best  and  in  plenty  and  proper  new  mourn- 
ing clothes  for  all.  This  unusual  grandeur  brought 
a glow  of  pride  to  the  heart  of  Kim,  and  he  walked 
with  a little  extra  swagger.  Just  a little  more  pride 
was  visible  in  the  way  he  held  his  head,  and  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  he  thought  little  of  the  price  he  would 
one  day  be  forced  to  pay  for  this  brave  show. 

The  money  lender  into  whose  hands  he  had  fallen 
was  one  of  those  usury  sharks  who  flourish  and  thrive 
on  just  this  sort  of  pride  and  folly.  The  extortion- 
ate rate  of  interest  demanded  was  such  that  one  won- 
ders how  any  sane  man  can  ever  be  so  foolish  as  to 
accept  the  conditions;  but  there  is  abundant  evidence 
that  there  are,  nevertheless,  many  who  put  them- 
selves in  the  power  of  the  usurer.  According  to  the 
accounts  of  the  latter,  Mr.  Kim  now  owed  him  sev- 
eral times  the  amount  actually  received,  and  the 
money  shark  declared  that  the  time  had  come  to 
foreclose  the  mortgage  which  he  held. 

Mr.  Kim  thought  of  these  things  as  he  slowly 
wended  his  way  toward  home.  After  a few  turns  in 
the  crooked  alley,  he  came  to  a stone  bridge  span- 
ning a small  stream.  Below  the  bridge  there  was 
an  inviting  shade  tree  and  several  large  stones  for 
resting  places,  and  thither  he  turned  his  steps.  He 
sat  and  thought  back  on  his  career.  He  was  not 
given  to  introspection,  but  the  shock  given  to  his 
sensibilities  by  friend  Cho  had  shaken  him  out  of 


22  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

his  usual  carelessness  and  lethargy.  He  sat  and 
stared  with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  distant  hills.  He 
thought  of  his  boyhood,  the  years  of  his  young  man- 
hood, and  of  his  later  life.  The  review  took  some 
time;  and  the  longer  he  thought,  the  more  disgusted 
and  discouraged  he  became.  A kaleidoscopic  view 
of  his  life  passed  before  him.  The  shadows  of  the 
summer  afternoon  grew  more  oblique;  the  blue  of 
the  hills  turned  to  purple.  Still  Kim  sat  and  stared 
and  thought  until  out  of  this  searching  survey  of 
the  past  one  leading  fact  took  definite  shape.  He 
was  a failure.  Something  must  be  done.  He  did 
not  realize  that  this  failure  of  his  was  due  to  the 
inability  to  put  the  proper  value  on  things.  From 
a long  line  of  ancestors  he  had  inherited  the  idea 
that  work  was  only  for  the  common  people  and  that 
the  spending  of  money,  not  earning  it,  was  a gen- 
tleman’s duty.  But  Kim  was  now  on  the  verge  of 
losing  his  home.  All  would  then  be  gone.  How 
could  he  hold  up  his  head  before  the  relatives  and 
neighbors,  a gentleman  without  his  ancestral  home? 
Then  he  would  have  little  or  no  hold  on  respecta- 
bility. 

“ What  shall  I do?  What  shall  I do?”  groaned  the 
unhappy  man,  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  tree  tops 
as  though  seeking  aid  and  instruction  from  them. 
The  usual  resort  of  the  Korean  gentleman  under 
these  conditions  is  his  relatives.  The  family  tie  is 
very  strong;  and  while  any  member  of  it  has  money 
at  his  command,  all  the  other  less  fortunate  feel 
quite  at  liberty  to  call  upon  him  for  help.  There 
was  no  such  money  member  in  his  clan  to  whom 
Kim  could  go  in  this  hour  of  need.  He  himself  was 


A Gentleman  of  Leisure  and  Poverty  23 

the  head  of  this  branch  of  the  house.  He  had  done 
his  part  with  the  little  he  had  to  help  the  other  less 
lucky  ones.  But  as  he  thought  over  his  list  of  kinfolk 
now  he  was  forced  to  admit  that  none  of  them  were 
any  better  off  than  he.  No;  it  was  useless  to  go  to 
them  for  help.  His  three  sons,  two  daughters-in-law, 
and  his  wife  would  surely  be  turned  out  homeless  on 
the  cold,  unfeeling  world!  Thenwhat  would  they  do? 

This  was  a sad  possibility  that  brought  the  gen- 
tleman to  his  feet  with  a start.  Hurriedly  he  headed 
in  a fast  walk  for  home.  That  home  was  dearer  to 
him  than  ever  before,  and  since  it  was  beginning 
to  seem  so  uncertain  he  wanted  to  see  that  noth- 
ing had  harmed  it  in  his  absence.  When  he  en- 
tered his  gate  he  was  much  more  humble  than  usual 
and  more  in  the  mood  to  listen  to  the  propositions  of 
the  unusual  old  woman  whom  he  found  there  than 
he  would  otherwise  have  been.  Whangsi,  the  chung- 
mae , or  matchmaker  and  go-between,  had  just  been 
having  a heart-to-heart  talk  with  Mrs.  Kim,  and  that 
excellent  lady  had  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
best  way  to  retrieve  their  broken  fortunes  and  to  re- 
cover the  lost  homestead  was  to  drive  a bargain  with 
old  man  Ye  of  the  seaside  village  of  Saemal,  who  was 
of  reputed  wealth  and  anxious  to  adopt  a son  from 
a family  of  the  gentry.  Mr.  Kim  entered  his  wife’s 
room  to  find  the  two  of  them  awaiting  him  most 
eagerly  with  argument  and  the  method  of  attack  all 
carefully  arranged. 


CHAPTER  III 

The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 

NO  ordinary  woman  was  Whangsi,  but  an  un- 
usual production  of  the  age  and  of  the  con- 
ditions of  her  country.  Gifted  with  a large  degree 
of  native  wit  and  astuteness,  her  abilities  had  been 
sharpened  to  a keenness  which  might  have  placed 
her  among  the  world’s  great  diplomats.  Shrewd  and 
sagacious,  she  was  a discerning  student  of  human 
nature  and  in  making  advances  was  always  careful 
that  her  point  of  contact  be  the  most  tactful  possible. 
The  self-complacent  air  with  which  she  bore  herself, 
the  nice  little  house  she  had  built,  the  position  of 
prominence  given  her  in  that  part  of  the  country — 
all  bore  eloquent  testimony  to  the  prodigious  suc- 
cess which  attended  her  efforts.  It  will  be  a much 
more  pleasant  subject  to  discuss  this  success  from 
Whangsi’s  viewpoint  than  from  that  of  the  many 
unhappy,  mismated  ones  who  marched  two  by  tw'o 
in  marriage  chains  behind  the  chariot  of  her  prog- 
ress. She  was  a little  birdlike  woman  of  uncertain 
age,  quick  in  her  movements  as  in  her  thoughts,  her 
face  having  a sharp  hawk  eye  and  beaklike  mouth 
which  added  to  it  lines  of  craftiness.  Of  course  she 
was  not  too  truthful.  Who  expected  that?  How 
could  a person  succeed  in  a calling  like  hers  and  stick 
to  the  letter  of  the  law?  Most  certainly  that  was 
not  to  be  expected. 

This  afternoon,  spent  at  the  home  of  the  Kim’s, 
was  the  kind  which  delighted  her  soul.  Such  an  en- 
counter called  for  the  high  order  of  intelligence 

(24) 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 


25 


which  she  believed  she  possessed,  while  to  come  out 
victorious  in  such  a battle  of  wits  meant  a neat,  tidy 
sum  to  add  to  her  nest  egg.  All  signs  pointed  to  a 
very  advantageous  match  between  the  third  son  of 
Mr.  Kim  and  the  granddaughter  of  old  man  Ye. 
She  had  talked  the  matter  over  with  Mrs.  Kim,  and 
as  she  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  master  of  the  house 
she  considered  the  question.  Although  this  gentle- 
man might  be  of  the  same  opinion  as  herself,  she 
was  sure  that  he  would  not  willingly  admit  it  until 
she  had  brought  up  all  the  field  artillery  at  her  dis- 
posal and  given  him  the  advantage  of  all  the  bombs 
of  her  argument.  Well  she  knew  that  the  financial 
crisis  in  which  he  found  himself  would  be  the  chief 
inducement  for  such  a match;  but  she  knew  also 
that  this  could  not  be  used  as  an  argument,  for 
Mr.  Kim’s  pride  would  be  immediately  offended  by 
such  a suggestion.  Thus  she  found  herself  facing  a 
very  delicate  situation  as  she  sat  with  Mrs.  Kim  and 
waited  for  Mr.  Kim  to  show  himself  after  his  return 
from  the  house  of  his  friend  Cho.  The  hours  spent 
under  the  willows  by  the  bridge  had  resulted  in  a 
self-condemnation  as  bitter  as  it  was  unprecedented. 
He  took  off  his  linen  coat  and  made  himself  comfort- 
able to  meet  the  visitor  a truly  humbler  and,  chas- 
tened man. 

With  a lordly  air  the  master  approached  the  shady 
veranda.  Mrs.  Kim  arose  to  meet  him,  every  line 
of  her  slender  form  and  each  delicate  feature  pro- 
claiming the  fact  that  she  was  a true  lady  of  the 
nobility.  It  is  not  always  a fact  even  in  Korea 
that  man  is  the  supreme  ruler.  Not  so  here,  for  it 
was  my  lady  who  ruled  within  the  domain  of  this 


26  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

home,  and  no  doubt  things  would  at  that  moment 
have  been  in  a better  condition  with  him  if  she  had 
also  ruled  in  matters  of  finance  as  well.  Quiet  and 
reserved,  with  unusual  dignity,  she  seemed  to  come 
naturally  by  the  right  of  control.  The  very  quali- 
ties of  decision  and  definite  purpose  so  lacking  in 
her  lord  were  quite  evident  in  her.  Certainly  he 
would  not  have  made  any  such  admission;  neverthe- 
less, this  quiet  little  woman  of  refined  manners  was 
the  head  of  the  house.  Without  doubt  the  secret  of 
this  was  the  fact  that  she  never  claimed  or  assumed 
any  such  prerogative.  She  would  have  been  the 
first  to  disavow  it,  but  she  guided  Mr.  Kim  with 
a silken  cord  of  which  he  was  utterly  unconscious. 

Whangsi  greeted  the  master  with  a deep  curtsey 
and  prostrated  herself,  bowing  before  him  until  her 
forehead  all  but  touched  the  floor,  while  he  acknowl- 
edged the  salutation  by  an  assent  halfway  between 
a growl  and  a grunt  and  then  seated  himself  on  one 
of  the  silken  cushions.  Thus  he  awaited  in  the  sol- 
emn dignity  of  an  Eastern  potentate  a subject’s 
statement  of  the  petition.  But  this  did  not  annoy 
the  visitor,  who  straightened  out  her  skirt  into  its 
proper  folds,  adjusted  her  disarranged  headdress, 
and  proceeded  to  address  him  with  the  highest 
honorifics  and  verbal  endings  in  which  the  Korean 
language  abounds. 

“Pardon,  my  lord,  that  one  so  humble  and  lowly 
as  I should  venture  into  your  presence  uninvited. 
I am  but  a poor,  ignorant  woman,  the  widow  of  the 
late  Whang  Young  Soon,  and  I crave  the  privilege 
of  speaking  to  you  concerning  a certain  friend  of 
mine  in  the  village  of  Saemal.”  Thus  she  began 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 


27 


with  a subtle,  veiled  flattery  which  pleased  the  proud 
gentleman,  her  words  being  accompanied  and  ac- 
cented by  several  deep  bows. 

“Say  on,”  was  the  gracious  response  as  he  waved 
a lordly  hand. 

“It  is  a mtter  of  congratulation  that  you  have 
been  so  favored  by  the  spirits  as  to  have  three  beau- 
tiful children  when  so  many  are  without  sons.  I 
perceive,  my  lord  Kim,  that  you  have  been  most 
careful  in  all  matters  concerning  your  ancestors  and 
that  through  your  faithful  sacrifices  they  have  pro- 
tected you  and  yours.  Greatly  have  you  been  hon- 
ored, your  excellency,  in  the  gift  of  these  lads.  The 
spirit  of  my  ancestors  forbid  that  I should  even 
suggest  that  you  have  more  than  your  share.  But 
I would  call  your  attention  most  humbly  to  the  great 
poverty  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Ye  of  Saemal,  who, 
though  well  off  in  this  world’s  goods,  having  all  that 
heart  can  wish,  has,  alas!  lost  his  only  son,  so  that 
earthly  joys  fail  to  bring  him  aught  of  pleasure. 
Yes,  great  is  his  sorrow,  and  nothing  can  bring  com- 
fort or  peace  to  his  stricken  home.”  Here  the  tender- 
hearted creature  actually  wept  over  the  sorrows  of 
Ye. 

“O  well!”  Mr.  Kim  did  not  like  tears,  even  croco- 
dile tears,  any  better  than  most  men.  “What  has 
this  to  do  with  me?  What  are  Ye’s  sorrows  to  me? 
Why  do  you  tell  me  of  this?”  Though  he  had  seen 
the  drift  of  her  conversation,  it  was  far  from  him  to 
acknowledge  it. 

“Nothing,  nothing,  your  honor;  nothing  at  all!” 
she  hastened  to  add.  “Nothing  save  that  I would 
call  your  attention  to  the  blessings  bestowed  upon 


28 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


you  by  the  gods.  Others  are  less  worthy  and  less 
favored.  You  are  most  blessed.  But  does  not  your 
heart  pity  those  less  fortunate?  It  is  a matter  of 
public  knowledge  that  your  two  elder  sons,  Kim 
Noch  Chun  and  Kim  Noch  Do,  are  well  settled  in 
life,  and  that  you  have  two  daughters-in-law  who 
are  models  of  industry  and  thrift.  May  I be  so  im- 
pertinent as  to  ask  about  the  third  son,  and  whether 
or  not  I may  make  a suggestion  concerning  his  wel- 
fare?” The  only  answer  to  this  fair-spoken  question 
was  a deep  grunt,  which  the  speaker  accepted  as 
assent  and  proceeded. 

“Farmer  Ye  of  the  village  of  Saemal  is  one  of  the 
four  wealthiest  men  in  the  eastern  part  of  Korea. 
This  is  a well-known  fact.  Rice  fields  and  fishing 
vessels,  gold  and  silver  are  his  in  plenty;  but  the 
death  of  his  son  leaves  him  with  only  a little  grand- 
child, a female  child  at  that.  Is  it  strange  that  the 
deepest  desires  of  his  heart  and  the  sincerest  pur- 
poses of  his  life  should  be  bent  toward  making  her 
happy  and  secure  for  the  future?  No;  this  is  only 
natural  and  right.  To  obtain  for  her  a bridegroom 
of  high  family,  a son  of  the  nobility,  he  is  willing  to 
offer  any  sacrifice  of  material  things,  provided  the 
prospective  son-in-law  becomes  his  adopted  son  and 
heir  to  all  his  wealth.” 

The  listener  was  now  fully  interested  in  the  situa- 
tion, but  such  interest  was  visible  only  in  the  tight- 
ening of  the  eyelids.  As  the  woman  talked  he 
watched  her  through  half-closed  eyes,  seeking  to 
separate  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  the  truth  from 
the  vain  words  of  Whangsi’s  professional  stock  in 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 


29 


trade.  However,  the  lady  was  not  to  be  daunted, 
and  she  continued  her  story. 

“It  is  quite  a common  practice  in  our  country, 
when  we  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  no  son,  to 
adopt  one.  Most  usually  it  is  from  among  the  chil- 
dren of  relatives;  and  sometimes  when  one  branch 
of  an  illustrious  family  has  several  sons  and  another 
several  daughters  it  is  frequent  that  they  make  an 
exchange,  an  adopted  son  for  an  adopted  daughter. 
But,  alas!  Mr.  Ye  has  no  such  relatives  to  whom 
he  can  go!  Then  there  is  another  custom  seen 
among  our  people,  when  a very  poor,  perhaps  un- 
fortunate, or  unhappy  mother  leaves  her  child  at 
the  door  of  the  rich  man’s  home.  Many  such  have 
been  adopted  into  families  of  wealth.  But  this 
would  not  do  for  Mr.  Ye.  He  is  a great  stickler  for 
pure  blood;  he  holds  to  the  old  ideas  of  aristocracy 
and  fears  to  have  common  blood  or  degenerate  lin- 
eage mingle  with  his.  That  he  would  never  stand. 
Some  one  tried  this  shortly  before  by  leaving  at  this 
house  one  night  a fine,  fat  baby  boy  that  a tender- 
hearted neighbor  rescued.” 

The  go-between  stopped  to  catch  her  breath. 
Under  her  skillful  manipulations  the  sordid  story 
of  miserly  Ye  of  Saemal  took  on  a tinge  of  romance 
which  thrilled  her  own  heart,  and  she  knew  that  her 
listeners  were  not  untouched  by  her  eloquence. 

“Then,  as  you  well  know,  your  honor,  there  is 
also  another  custom  much  resorted  to  in  homes 
where  there  are  no  sons  to  bless,  the  adoption  of  the 
husband  of  a daughter,  and  this  is  what  Mr.  Ye 
greatly  desires.  Far  be  it  from  me  or  such  as  I 
to  offer  suggestions  to  your  excellency,  but  it  is  the 


30 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


earnest  and  sincere  wish  of  Mr.  Ye  to  know  what  you 
think  of  such  a proposition.  Certainly  you  would 
not  object,  since  this  son  would  continue  to  use  his 
own  name.  Kim  he  is,  and  Kim  he  would  remain 
to  the  end  of  his  days.  That  is  one  excellence 
about  this  custom  of  Korea.  Thus  Mr.  Ye  would 
have  an  heir  to  follow  him,  some  one  to  take  his 
place  at  head  of  the  house,  and  the  son-in-law  would 
live  in  the  bride’s  home  instead  of  the  girl  going  to 
his  home.  Even  this  is,  of  course,  a sacrifice;  but, 
realizing  this,  it  would  be  the  pleasure  of  the  gen- 
erous father  not  only  to  give  in  return  the  sum 
which  you  may  agree  upon,  but  also  to  consider 
henceforth  the  needs  and  sustenance  of  your  home 
as  his  responsibility.  It  would  be  his  duty  to  see 
that  in  the  future  you  have  no  want  for  things 
of  this  world.  You  have  been  blessed  by  sons; 
Mr.  Ye  has  been  blessed  by  material  possessions, 
field  and  gold  and  riches  in  store.  So  it  is  a small 
thing  to  supply  these  in  return  for  the  boon  he 
most  desires.  I am  sorry  to  have  disturbed  your 
quiet  and  to  have  intruded  upon  your  privacy.” 

It  has  been  said  that  Whangsi  was  a diplomat 
and  that  she  instinctively  knew  just  when  enough 
had  been  said.  As  she  arose  and  shook  out  her 
voluminous  skirts  it  was  with  the  assurance  that 
the  seed  sown  in  this  fertile  soil  would  surely  bring 
forth  fruitage  in  the  near  future. 

Kim  sat  in  deep  meditation,  puffing  away  at  his 
pipe.  No  heed  did  he  give  to  the  bows  of  the  depart- 
ing guest.  Mrs.  Kim  bustled  to  the  steps  of  the 
courtyard  with  hospitable  intent,  placed  the  shoes 
for  her  feet,  helped  arrange  the  veil  over  her  head, 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work  31 

and  was  ushering  Whangsi  toward  the  entrance 
when  a ringing  voice  came  from  the  veranda: 
“Yebo!  Say  you!”  a not  uncommon  way  to  call  a 
servant  or  your  wife.  “Say,  tell  that  person  that 
this  suggestion  does  not  strike  me  very  favorably 
just  at  first.  But  I’ll  think  about  it  and  investigate 
matters;  and  if  she  wants  to  talk  about  it  any  more, 
she  can  come  again  seven  days  hence,  at  which  time 
I’ll  receive  her.”  The  listening  woman  then  knew 
that  the  battle  was  half  won  for  Ye. 

Seven  days  had  passed.  During  this  time  Kim 
had  made  inquiry  into  the  pretentions  and  condi- 
tions of  the  gentleman  in  question,  and,  allowing 
for  expected  exaggerations  and  high  coloring,  he 
believed  that  the  go-between  ( chungmae ) had 
stated  the  main  facts  truthfully.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kim  then  decided  that  this  was  indeed  a great  op- 
portunity for  the  third  son,  and,  though  neither 
mentioned  it  except  casually,  both  counted  it  a 
God-given  way  to  right  their  financial  troubles  and 
to  get  a fresh  start  in  life. 

On  the  seventh  day  the  house  was  set  in  order, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kim  waited  for  the  arrival  of 
Whangsi.  The  appointments  of  this  house  still 
bore  the  marks  of  former  Oriental  elegance — the 
broad  verandas  decorated  with  classic  mottoes 
from  famous  authors,  the  silken  cushions  now  faded 
and  worn,  the  massive  timbers  such  as  are  seen  only 
in  the  homes  of  the  gentry. 

Mr.  Kim  sat  cross-legged  on  the  mat  and  drew 
tenderly  at  his  long-stemmed  pipe.  Mrs.  Kim 
took  dainty  stitches  in  some  fine  linen  while  the 
calm  and  quiet  of  the  afternoon  wore  away  in 


32  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

the  conscious  anticipation  of  a visitor.  The  mother 
had  consented  to  the  final  decision  not  without 
many  anxious  and  sorrowful  misgivings.  The 
child  about  to  be  sacrificed  was  her  best  beloved  of 
all  the  children,  the  joy  and  pride  of  her  heart. 
The  hand  that  held  her  sewing  dropped  to  her  lap 
as  she  said:  “I  do  not  know  how  he  will  take  this. 
He  is  such  an  affectionate  child,  and  his  devotion 
to  the  family  and  love  for  its  old  traditions  are 
stronger  than  that  of  the  others.  It’s  a pity  that 
it  could  not  have  been  one  of  the  older  boys;  they 
would  have  carried  it  off  well.  But — he  is  not 
like  them.” 

“Yes,  that’s  true;  but,  after  all,  it  is  for  his  sake. 
He  is  not  supposed  to  know  as  well  as  we,  his  par- 
ents, what  is  best  for  him.  He  has  always  been 
obedient,  although  such  a mischievous  fellow. 
Don’t  worry  about  that.  He  will  fall  into  line  all 
right.” 

She  did  worry,  nevertheless,  for  she  knew  full 
well  that  consideration  of  this  son’s  future  was  not 
the  prime  motive  in  this  matter,  and  that  neither 
Mr.  Kim  nor  she  would  have  considered  such  a 
match  for  a moment  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  des- 
perate condition  in  which  they  found  themselves 
financially.  Suddenly  a scraping  of  feet  and  a cough 
outside  announced  a visitor.  No  knocking  there; 
nothing  so  blatant  or  crude.  A cough  or  clearing  of 
the  throat  is  the  proper  way  to  announce  one’s  ar- 
rival. The  hostess  hastened  to  greet  the  guest,  took 
her  mantle,  and  led  her  to  the  porch,  where,  after 
the  preliminary  greetings,  they  finally  came  to  the 
business  in  hand.  It  was  now  Mr.  Kim’s  time  to 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 


33 


take  the  initiative,  and  he  did  so  with  the  pompous 
dignity  of  an  emperor. 

“I  have  investigated  your  words  with  regard  to 
the  family  by  the  name  of  Ye  living  at  Saemal, 
and  they  seem  to  be  partly  true.  I am  willing  to 
hear  whatever  proposition  you  have  to  make.  Just 
remember,  however,  that  this  arrangement  is  not 
of  my  seeking.  I am  not  the  one  who  is  anxious 
for  this  consummation.” 

Whangsi  looked  at  him  a long  moment  and  slowly 
nodded  her  head  as  she  considered  the  problem  of 
how  best  to  maneuver  so  that  she  could  offer  him 
sufficient  money  to  really  tempt  him  without  seem- 
ing to  do  so  and  get  a tidy  bit  out  of  it  for  herself. 
Then  with  a flutter,  not  unlike  the  bird  she  resem- 
bled, she  approached  the  delicate  subject  thus: 
”1  could  not  shame  a gentleman  of  your  standing 
by  the  mention  of  money  except  that  in  such  cases 
it  is  the  custom,  and  we  must  follow  the  time-honored 
customs  of  our  fathers.  When  I was  here  before  I 
did  not  mention  a characteristic  peculiar  to  Mr. 
Ye.  He  wants  to  be  thought  poor,  and  he  is  very 
anxious  that  his  part  of  the  transaction  should 
remain  a secret,  though  others  will  necessarily 
know  that  henceforth  your  family  needs  are  con- 
sidered one  with  his.  When  the  matter  was  first 
brought  to  my  attention,  before  even  mentioning 
it  to  you,  I told  Mrs.  Ye  that  it  was  altogether 
useless  to  suggest  less  than  forty  thousand  yang." 

Here  she  paused  for  a second,  but  a stony  stare 
was  the  only  response.  Mr.  Kim  knew  that  it  was 
her  professional  duty  to  get  all  she  could  from  Ye 
and  to  keep  as  much  of  the  amount  as  possible  for 
3 


34  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

herself.  Although  not  mercenary,  Kim  was  in 
need,  and  it  was  his  right  as  well  as  his  fatherly 
duty  to  see  that  he  received  all  that  was  coming  to 
him  in  this  deal. 

“As  a matter  of  fact,  I am  not  even  yet  quite 
sure  of  the  amount  which  can  be  expected;  but  of 
one  thing  I am  confident,  this  part  can  be  arranged 
with  perfect  satisfaction  to  all  concerned.” 

This  assured  expectation  of  Whangsi  was  not 
put  to  shame,  for  after  many  alternate  visits  to 
Saemal  and  to  Mr.  Kim,  tactful  here,  threaten- 
ing there,  always  diplomatic,  her  energy  and  zeal 
were  finally  rewarded  by  successful  arrangements 
for  the  completion  of  the  betrothal. 

Behold  Whangsi  at  last  happy  and  triumphant  on 
her  way  to  Saemal,  a written  contract  in  her  pos- 
session from  the  father  of  the  groom  saying  that 
the  son  agreed  thereby  to  take  Kumokie  as  his  wife 
and  to  live  at  the  house  of  Ye  as  an  adopted  son. 
This  precious  document,  together  with  the  parings 
of  the  toe  and  finger  nails  of  the  groom,  was  bound 
with  red  thread,  put  into  a red  envelope,  and  car- 
ried in  a red  napkin  to  the  house  of  the  prospective 
bride,  where  it  was  received  with  due  ceremony; 
while  corresponding  emblems  and  promises  from 
the  grandparents  of  the  bride  were  returned  to  the 
house  of  the  groom. 

This  groom,  Noch  Kyung,  though  sixteen  years 
old,  had  been  as  little  consulted  or  considered  as 
had  the  tiny  girl  of  Saemal,  yet  he  had  very  delicate 
feelings  on  the  subject  which  sooner  or  later  would 
have  to  be  taken  into  account. 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 


35 


The  morning  after  the  betrothal  had  been  ar- 
ranged with  due  formality  the  unhappy  bridegroom 
sat  near  the  open  door  of  his  room  overlooking  the 
courtyard,  his  hair  newly  dressed  with  a topknot, 
proclaiming  to  all  the  world  that  he  was  now  enter- 
ing man’s  estate  and  engaged  to  be  married.  The 
sae-su-bang' s (new  groom’s)  hat  was  lying  on  the 
floor  by  his  side.  He  must  now  no  longer  be  called 
Kung  Saika  but  Noch  Kyung,  for  the  boyhood  name 
was  done  away  with,  the  long  shining  hair  braid,  and 
other  childish  things  that  he  lost  when  he  took 
a man’s  place.  The  morning  was  warm  and  sultry; 
the  leaves  hung  in  languid  stillness  on  the  trees; 
the  sky  seemed  of  brass  and  pitiless  in  the  fierce 
reflection  of  the  sun’s  lurid  rays.  It  was  the  quiet 
which  precedes  a storm.  This  was  the  season  of 
typhoons;  the  great  rains  of  summer  were  long  over- 
due; the  farmers  prayed  for  rain,  and  all  nature 
awaited  with  hushed  expectation  that  outburst 
which  would  break  the  drought  and  usher  in  the 
rainy  season  ( changma ).  The  long  morning  was 
wearing  away  slowly  for  Mrs.  Kim.  She  sat  in  her 
favorite  seat  on  the  veranda  and  stitched  away  at 
her  never-ending  task,  while  she  kept  a watchful 
eye  on  the  daughters-in-law  as  they  came  and  went 
from  kitchen  to  storeroom,  busy  with  the  noonday 
meal.  Many  glances  she  directed  toward  her  hand- 
some, sullen  son,  who  sat  on  a mat  near  the  open 
door  of  the  room  opposite.  In  his  listless  hand  was 
a book  of  Chinese  classics,  though  his  eyes  were 
not  upon  the  wonderful  characters  therein,  but 
roamed  about  the  court  hither  and  thither,  now 
resting  on  the  women  as  they  came  and  went, 


36 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


now  searching  the  roof  top  among  the  broken  tiles, 
then  furtively  watching  his  mother  across  the  way, 
careful  lest  he  catch  her  eyes.  One  clinched  hand 
lay  on  the  mat;  his  knees  were  drawn  up  as  though 
he  were  about  to  spring  to  the  yard  below.  This 
boy  was  very  like  his  mother  in  looks  and  in  dis- 
position. One  knew  at  a glance  by  his  tall,  straight 
figure  that  he  was  a high-bred  lad. 

There  is  a great  difference  not  to  be  overlooked 
between  the  common  people,  the  coolie  class,  and 
the  upper  classes.  The  peoples  of  the  Western  world 
are  quick  to  recognize  this  fact  in  regard  to  their 
own  kin,  though  they  are  apt  to  forget  it  in  dealing 
with  the  races  of  the  Orient.  But  in  the  Eastern 
world,  as  well  as  in  the  Western,  it  is  a fact  that 
“blood  will  tell” — in  intellect,  in  habits,  and  in  ap- 
pearance. Noch  Kyung  was  a gentleman.  In  every 
finely  chiseled  line  of  face  and  head,  in  every  deli- 
cate curve  of  his  splendidly  molded  hands,  were  to 
be  seen  the  marks  of  generations  of  noble  ancestors. 
But  sullen  anger  lent  a deeper  shadow  to  the 
beautiful  brown  eyes,  to  the  corners  of  his  hand- 
some mouth,  which  dropped  with  sulky  rage. 
Gloomy  and  silent,  he  looked  like  a young  tiger, 
king  of  the  mountains,  caged.  The  mood  of  nature 
around  him  was  in  sympathy  with  the  suffering 
boy,  for  his  quiet  was  also  the  calm  before  the  storm. 

The  crash  of  a falling  dish  in  the  kitchen  seemed 
to  awaken  him,  to  arouse  him  to  action.  With  a 
leap  he  was  on  his  feet,  the  offending  book  tossed 
with  a petulant  gesture  into  the  farthest  corner. 
Two  bounds  and  he  was  across  the  narrow  court- 
yard ; another  spring  and  he  stood  before  his  mother. 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work  37 

As  he  scowled  down  upon  the  woman  before  him 
he  was  trembling  all  over  with  indignation,  sorrow, 
and  humiliation.  There  is  no  denying  that  the 
mother  was  worried,  but  it  was  for  just  such  crises 
as  this  that  she  required  the  dignity  and  force  of 
calm  in  which  she  had  schooled  herself.  The  child 
was  the  pride  and  joy  of  her  heart;  mischievous 
and  daring  he  was,  yet  obedient  and  kind.  His 
love  and  admiration  for  his  lady  mother  held  great 
power  over  his  heart,  but  of  this  tenderness  he  was 
ashamed  to  let  any  know  lest  it  seem  unmanly. 

Now,  though  somewhat  startled  by  the  unex- 
pected dash  across  the  yard,  Mrs.  Kim  seemed  as 
quiet  and  undisturbed  as  ever  when  she  looked  up 
at  her  angry  boy.  Yes,  she  had  thought  it  all  out 
and  knew  that  he  was  apt  to  have  objections  to  his 
part  in  this  matter,  but,  knowing  their  straits  as  she 
did,  she  saw  clearly  that  this  was  the  only  means 
of  keeping  the  home.  The  alternative  was  the  sur- 
render and  destruction  of  the  whole  family,  this 
beloved  son  included.  Hence  the  sacrifice  of  Noch 
Kyung  was  necessary  for  his  sake  as  well  as  for  the 
family,  and  he  must  give  up  in  favor  of  a higher 
and  more  imperative  duty.  After  all,  as  the  adopted 
son  of  the  wealthy  Ye,  his  would  be  the  chief  gain. 
He  was  to  be  given  a great  opportunity,  while  theirs 
was  the  loss  in  giving  up  such  a gifted  and  affec- 
tionate son.  Having  reached  this  decision  herself, 
she  saw  that  her  part  was  now  to  overcome  his 
objection  and  make  him  see  the  matter  in  its  proper 
light;  he  must  realize  this  step  to  be  necessary  for 
his  future  as  well  as  for  theirs.  There  must  be  no 
wavering,  no  weakness  in  dealing  with  him,  though 


38  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

she  must  be  careful  not  to  offend  his  sensitive  na- 
ture overdeeply.  With  a wave  of  her  steady,  white 
hand  she  motioned  him  to  the  cushion  opposite. 

“My  son,  be  seated.  Here  is  a fan;  the  day  is 
too  hot  to  move  about  so  rapidly.” 

“Sit  down,  indeed!  Sit  down!  You  treat  me  as 
though  I were  still  a baby.  I’m  a child  no  longer. 
Neither  am  I a pig  or  donkey  to  be  sold  or  bought 
for  lands  or  gold.  I’m  a man  in  size,  in  years,  and 
in  feeling.” 

This  outburst  so  surprised  Mrs.  Kim  that  she 
dropped  the  linen  to  the  floor  and  looked  at  him  in 
amazement.  This  rigid,  infuriated  young  man  be- 
fore her  was  a stranger.  This  was  no  longer  the 
light-hearted,  smiling  boy  she  knew  so  well.  He  had 
stepped  from  childhood  into  manhood.  Her  in- 
stinct told  her  that  he  was  now  to  be  treated  as  a 
man.  The  reasons  for  certain  actions,  the  condition 
of  the  family,  could  no  longer  be  withheld  from  him 
as  from  the  child  of  yesterday.  The  opinions  of  this 
man  were  something  to  be  taken  into  consideration 
if  he  was  to  take  his  part  in  a proper  manner  and 
carry  the  plan  out  to  a successful  conclusion.  While 
she  looked  into  his  face  and  marveled  at  the  change 
in  him  his  words  came  forth  in  an  angry  rush. 

“Why  is  it  that  Noch  Chun  and  Noch  Do,  with 
their  wives,  can  live  here  at  home,  the  home  which 
I love  more  dearly  than  do  either  of  them,  while 
you  throw  me  away,  sell  me  for  money,  and  send  me 
to  that  nasty  fishing  village  of  Saemal  to  become 
the  adopted  son  of  a common  farmer,  a stranger 
who  is  not  even  a relative?  Thrown  to  the  dogs!” 

Anger  had  given  place  to  outraged  love.  Noch 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work 


39 


Kyung’s  was  a warm,  affectionate  nature,  and 
he  was  now  suffering  as  only  those  can  who  love 
deeply.  Although  his  breath  came  in  gasps,  his 
stern,  young  face  was  white  and  set. 

As  his  mother  gazed  at  him  she  realized  some- 
thing of  his  pain,  and  gone  was  her  resolve  to  be 
coolly  judicious  in  dealing  with  him.  Her  face  was 
as  white  as  his  own  as  she  cried  out:  “No,  no,  child! 
You  do  not  understand!” 

He  dashed  aside  her  outstretched  hands,  and  with 
a moan  sank  to  the  floor  and  buried  his  face  in  the 
cushions. 

“Don’t  touch  me!  You  say  that  I am  no  longer 
your  son.” 

Aye;  no  longer  a child,  but  a man;  a wounded, 
angry  man  was  this  lad  with  whom  she  had  to  deal, 
and  one  demanding  all  the  tact  and  wisdom  at  her 
command.  He  must  know  the  truth.  So  with 
hands  clenched  and  with  a masterly  effort  to  con- 
trol her  voice  she  commenced  with  low  faltering 
words  to  tell  the  unlovely  facts  so  long  and  care- 
fully withheld:  the  story  of  financial  strain;  the 
poverty  and  want  which  had  been  withheld  only 
by  the  mortgage  on  the  old  homestead;  the  family 
ruin  and  disgrace  which  was  now  imminent;  the 
one  step  possible  which  stood  between  them  and 
starvation  and  worse.  As  the  plain  truth  came  from 
her  trembling  lips  she  moved  closer  to  the  prostrate 
form,  and  her  tears  fell  fast  upon  the  dark  head. 
She  longed  to  take  him  in  her  arms  and  comfort 
him,  but  there  was  a newborn  fear  and  respect  for 
him  in  her  heart.  That  fierce,  indignant  “Don’t 
touch  me!”  meant  that  he  was  not  yet  ready  for 


40  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

caresses.  As  he  listened  to  the  pitiful  tale,  the  storm 
of  dark  rage  passed,  and  her  tears  melted  his  heart 
as  nothing  else  could  have  done.  When  before  had 
he  seen  this  proud  lady  in  tears?  This  moved  him 
to  an  understanding  of  the  urgency  and  the  grinding 
nature  of  their  poverty.  After  a lengthy  period  of 
quiet,  he  raised  his  head  and  gave  her  a long,  search- 
ing look. 

“So  it  is  a necessity  to  save  the  family  that  I 
should  be  sold!  I would  die  before  I would  be  sac- 
rificed for  my  brothers.  They  would  not  have  done 
it  for  me.  Noch  Chun  would  not;  neither  would 
Noch  Do;  neither  would  I wish  to  do  it  for  them. 
It's  like  selling  my  soul  for  a bunch  of  garlic!  But 
for  your  sake,  my  mother,  for  you  I will  give  up 
home,  family,  all,  and  become  an  outcast  among 
these  common  people.” 

He  hid  his  twitching  face  against  his  mother’s 
skirt  and  burst  into  tears.  Where  now  was  the 
stern,  angry  man?  He  was  just  a little  boy  again, 
the  generous,  loving  child  of  yesterday,  and  with  mur- 
mured words  of  tenderness  and  endearment  the  moth- 
er gathered  him  close  in  her  arms,  and  their  tears 
mingled. 

Preparations  for  the  wedding  and  the  attending 
excitement  aroused  Mr.  Kim  from  his  lethargy. 
The  money  in  his  hand,  he  again  felt  the  yang  ban 
he  knew  himself  to  be,  and  forgotten  were  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  past  in  his  anxiety  to  have  this 
present  affair  worthy  of  his  name.  The  family 
jewelry  and  many  beautiful  pieces  of  furniture  once 
lost  again  found  their  place  in  the  home;  heirlooms 
which  had  long  reposed  amid  the  cobwebs  of  the 


The  Go-Between  and  Her  Work  41 

pawnbroker  were  now  in  the  hands  of  their  rightful 
owner.  The  pleasures  and  the  duties  of  each  day 
brought  to  him  sufficient  responsibility.  Thus  it 
had  always  been  in  the  past,  and  this  accounted  for 
the  financial  stress  in  which  he  had  but  recently 
found  himself.  But  for  the  present  there  was  an 
abundance;  so  why  look  forward  with  dread  to  an 
uncertain  future?  Mr.  Ye  had  promised  to  take 
care  of  that,  and  Mr.  Kim  never  faced  unpleasant 
possibilities  until  they  thrust  themselves  upon  him, 
not  even  then  if  he  could  by  any  means  avert  the 
necessity.  Just  now  he  was  quite  happy.  The 
mortgage  was  paid;  the  homestead  was  his  again; 
the  money  in  hand  was  enough  to  carry  through 
the  proper  ceremony  of  the  wedding  occasion,  with 
a little  left  over.  Pay  his  debts?  O no;  that  was 
another  matter!  Unless  there  was  a note  against 
him,  a mortgage,  who  ever  expected  him  to  pay 
small  loans?  Certainly  not  men  like  his  friend 
Cho,  who  knew  him  of  old.  With  his  financial  bur- 
dens removed,  his  home  restored,  and  the  means  at 
hand  with  which  to  splurge  and  regale  his  friends 
with  good  wine,  laughter  and  cheer  filled  his  heart 
once  more  as  in  the  days  gone  by. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

* I ^HE  sorcerer  was  consulted  concerning  the  lucky 
date  for  the  approaching  nuptials,  and  a day 
in  September  was  finally  decided  upon  as  being  pro- 
pitious and  advisable  in  every  way.  The  fine  sewing 
and  needlework  exhibited  by  Mrs.  Kim  and  her 
daughters-in-law  were  well  worthy  of  a bride  more 
appreciative  than  poor,  frightened,  little  Kumokie. 
Poor  little  girl!  She  knew  not  which  frightened  her 
most,  her  mother’s  passionate  outbursts  of  anger 
and  helpless  remonstrance,  or  her  grandfather’s 
harsh  exhortations  concerning  her  future  behavior. 
He  alternately  lectured  her  about  the  proper  way 
for  one  in  her  position  to  behave,  and  threatened 
her  with  unutterable  terrors  if  she  disgraced  the 
family  by  forgetting  any  one  of  a thousand  differ- 
ent points  of  etiquette.  Just  what  was  about  to 
happen  she  did  not  exactly  know;  but  something 
awful  seemed  ready  to  befall,  and  she  was  quite 
sure  that  she  would  forget  some  of  the  many  things, 
that  she  would  make  some  dreadful  blunder  which 
would  bring  ruin  and  disgrace  upon  the  family 
and  make  her  an  outcast  and  a byword  forever. 
Day  after  day  she  went  through  the  ceremony  of 
bowing  as  directed  by  Whangsi,  her  grandmother 
acting  as  chief  critic.  O dear!  It  was  so  hard  to 
learn  to  be  a bride!  Those  awful,  trying  bows! 
How  her  back  and  legs  ached,  and  what  little  prog- 
ress she  made ! She  had  to  sink  gracefully  and  slowly, 
(42) 


Rumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea  43 

slowly  and  more  slowly  still,  to  a prostrate  position, 
her  forehead  resting  on  her  crossed  hands  on  the  floor, 
then  to  rise  just  as  slowly,  and  repeat  this  three  times. 
Try  it  if  you  think  it  easy!  But  after  so  long  a time 
of  practice  the  old  woman  thought  that  she  would 
get  through  it  passing  well  if  she  could  only  keep 
her  eyes  shut  and  not  cry  like  a baby! 

In  after  years  Kumokie  tried  to  remember  the 
impressions  of  her  wedding  day,  but  it  was  one 
confused  idea  of  noise,  fear,  intolerable  heat,  and 
weariness.  She  well  remembered  the  delight  of  the 
women  when  the  bride’s  outfit,  the  presents,  and 
trousseau  from  the  home  of  the  groom  arrived:  the 
lovely  inlaid  chest;  the  many  garments  of  silk  and 
linen;  ornaments  of  gold  and  jade,  which  had  be- 
longed to  Mrs.  Kim  when  a bride;  the  beautiful 
needlework  and  exquisite  embroidery — these  all 
brought  exclamations  of  praise  and  admiration  from 
the  neighbors,  who  crowded  in  to  see  the  wonders 
of  this  fairy  chest.  The  Kims  were  not  common, 
ordinary  people,  and  they  did  not  do  things  half- 
way. The  verdict  of  the  village  was  that  they  were 
true  aristocrats  and  that  the  Ye  family  was  for- 
tunate and  lucky  in  making  an  alliance  with  such 
people.  The  one  least  interested  of  all  in  this  bridal 
finery  was  the  child  bride.  To  her  it  was  only  part 
of  the  new  ordeal,  something  which  she  could  not 
understand.  The  many  days  of  anxiety  and  fright, 
the  weariness  and  excitement  had  taken  the  roses 
from  her  cheeks,  and  she  heard  Whangsi  say  as  she 
came  in  to  dress  her:  “What  a lovely  saxie  she  will 
make!  So  timid  and  pale  and  frightened  looking! 
Why,  we  can  make  her  look  as  fine  a lady  as  any 


44  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

daughter  of  the  Kims!”  Then  they  pasted  her  eyes 
shut,  put  on  the  thick  paint  and  powder  until  arms, 
neck,  and  face  were  made  as  white  as  chalk,  deathly, 
unnatural;  then  was  added  the  final  glory,  the  crim- 
son spots  on  cheeks  and  brow. 

They  led  her  forth  to  meet  the  groom,  whom  even 
now  she  was  not  to  see.  From  that  time  until  she 
was  carried  away  in  a great  chair  of  gilt  and  red 
with  the  bridal  procession  on  its  way  to  the  cere- 
monial visit  to  the  home  of  the  groom,  it  was  all  an 
indistinct  blur  of  tumult,  heat,  pain,  and  fear. 
As  a blind  puppet,  she  responded  to  the  whispered 
commands  of  Whangsi,  who  guided  and  led  her 
through  the  ordeal.  She  bowed  when  she  was  told 
to  bow;  she  walked  when  told  to  walk,  sat  when 
told  to  sit;  her  hands  were  bound  and  helpless  in  the 
long  silken  sleeves  of  the  bridal  robe;  the  swish  of 
the  heavy  brocade  which  might  have  delighted  a 
more  critical  owner;  the  heat;  the  pressing,  un- 
sympathetic crowd  of  sightseers  and  the  vulgar  talk; 
the  noise  of  feasting  and  drinking  in  the  courtyard — 
all  these  things  were  blended  into  a dim  memory 
of  those  long  hours  of  agony  when  she  could  neither 
speak  nor  show  any  sign  of  emotion  or  life  except  as 
directed  by  the  woman  beside  her.  Yet  it  was  with 
something  of  exultation  that  she  remembered  that 
she  did  not  cry.  All  along  she  had  been  so  afraid 
that  the  tears  would  come,  and  that  she  would  be 
a disgrace  to  the  family  and  receive  the  mighty 
thrashing  promised  by  her  grandfather.  This  was 
truly  a victory  over  self  for  Kumokie.  A dread- 
fully big  lump  came  into  her  throat,  and  it  ached  so 
cruelly  that  sometimes  it  just  seemed  as  though 


They  led  her  forth  to  meet  the  groom , whom  even  now  she  was 
not  to  see 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea  45 

she  could  no  longer  hold  back  the  tears,  till  her 
grandfather’s  voice  would  sound  in  the  outer  court 
and  the  fear  of  him  freeze  the  tears  from  her  smart- 
ing eyes.  Would  the  day  never  end?  Sometimes 
she  thought  she  could  not  stand  it  any  longer,  so 
faint  was  she  with  hunger  and  excitement.  Very 
slowly,  indeed,  passed  this  wedding  day,  which 
lived  in  her  memory  as  one  of  the  most  uncomfort- 
able and  unhappy  days  of  all  her  life.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  two  most  miserable  people 
in  this  affair  were  the  two  chief  actors,  the  bride 
and  the  groom.  These  two,  strange  to  say,  had 
little  or  no  thought  for  each  other;  they  were  think- 
ing of  their  own  misery  and  wishing  the  thing  well 
over. 

Noch  Kyung,  decked  out  in  all  the  finery  of  the 
occasion,  had  arrived  with  his  gay  procession.  He 
also  had  gone  through  the  bowing  ceremony  in 
proper  form.  His  handsome  face  was  set  and 
hard;  for  the  sight  of  the  painted,  little,  doll-like 
thing  which  was  his  bride  awoke  again  his  slum- 
bering fury  against  his  parents,  against  fate,  and 
against  his  father-in-law.  The  red  glitter  of  his 
eye  might  have  warned  this  new  relative  that  here 
at  least  was  one  who  was  not  to  be  easily  managed 
and  who  would  brook  no  insolence.  This  hardness 
of  the  eye  softened  somewhat  as  it  rested  on  the 
trembling  girl  before  him.  He  saw  the  soft,  baby- 
ish curves  of  the  little  body  and  thought  to  him- 
self: “Poor  child!  She  is  only  a baby!  I’ll  be  kind 
to  her,  anyway;  but  I can  make  it  hot  enough  for 
the  old  skin-flint.” 


46 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


Endless  as  it  seemed,  the  day  was  closed  at  last. 
Much  to  his  joy,  farmer  Ye  had  a new  son,  his 
granddaughter’s  husband;  and,  quite  incidentally, 
Kim  Noch  Kyung  had  a bride,  though  many  years 
were  to  pass  before  Kumokie  became  a wife. 


CHAPTER  V 

A Voice  from  the  Dead 

LIFE  in  Saemal  was  a contrast  to  the  former 
life  of  Kim  Noch  Kyung. 

A literary  atmosphere  pervaded  his  father’s 
home,  where  even  his  mother  was  versed  in  the 
Chinese  classics,  a very  unusual  accomplishment 
for  a Korean  woman,  even  a yang  ban  lady. 
Through  her  the  other  women  of  the  family  were 
familiar  with  the  eunmun , the  vernacular  script. 
His  childhood  had  passed  in  care-free  play  and  happy 
study  with  his  wise  old  teacher  in  the  shabby  school- 
room. He  had  been  considered  a good  scholar  for 
one  so  young,  and  his  chief  aspiration  had  been  to 
go  to  the  examinations  in  the  Kyungbok  Palace. 
How  he  had  dreamed  of  that  hour  when  the  subject 
for  his  composition  would  be  given  him!  Ah!  He 
would  write  furiously  on  the  wonderful  essay  that 
would  bring  him  fame,  official  position,  and  glory! 
Yes,  those  were  happy  days  of  boyhood.  What 
would  he  not  give  to  have  them  back  again,  to  join 
in  that  drone  and  buzz  as  with  half-closed  eyes  the 
boys  sang  the  characters  they  loved? 

Now  all  this  was  changed.  In  place  of  the  gen- 
eral air  of  gentility  and  leisure  there  was  the  sordid 
dreariness  of  a house  which  had  never  boasted  a 
scholar.  Farmer  Ye  never  let  it  be  forgotten  that 
there  was  work  to  be  done  if  they  would  have  rice 
to  eat.  The  sarang , a room  on  the  outer  court, 
which  was  the  combined  reception  and  living 
room  for  the  men  of  the  house,  was  cheerless, 

(47) 


48 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


though  comfortable  in  a way.  The  whole  house 
was  lacking  in  that  indescribable  charm  which 
he  remembered  of  his  childhood  home.  These  walls 
were  yellow  from  smoke  and  festooned  with  ancient 
cobwebs.  The  very  dinginess  of  things  made  him 
miserable  and  homesick,  though  these  material 
discomforts  were  the  deast  cause  of  his  distress. 
These  people  so  grossly  illiterate  and  common ; the 
broken-spirited,  faded  women;  their  evident  fear 
in  the  presence  of  the  master;  the  illness  and  suffer- 
ing of  Kumokie’s  mother;  her  dislike  for  him  and 
her  anxiety  for  her  child ; the  foul-smelling  village — 
all  these  things  were  revolting  to  the  fastidious 
young  man.  His  beauty-loving  soul  had  nothing 
on  which  to  feed;  and  sometimes  such  a longing 
for  his  own  kind,  his  mother,  his  home,  and  his  old 
play  fellows,  took  such  fierce  possession  of  his  heart 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  restrained  his 
desire  to  run  away.  That,  however,  would  have 
been  dishonorable,  for  the  farmer  was  keeping  his 
promise  in  all  things  pertaining  to  the  family  in  the 
city,  and  regularly  the  bags  of  grain  were  sent  to  the 
home  of  Kim  Young  Suk.  The  thought  that  by  the 
sacrifice  of  self  he  was  bringing  comfort  and  peace 
to  his  loved  ones  far  away  brought  him  small  pleas- 
ure when  he  mused  upon  their  willingness  to  have 
it  so.  His  soul  was  tortured  by  the  fact  that  his 
parents  had  known  little  or  nothing  about  the  place 
to  which  they  had  exiled  him,  and  even  less  about 
the  people  with  whom  he  had  to  live.  These  feel- 
ings of  injury  were  harbored  in  his  mind,  and  they 
grew  till  they  steadily  developed  the  moroseness  of  a 
man  who  has  been  greatly  wronged.  A new  look  had 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


49 


come  into  his  face,  the  tense  and  decisive  expres- 
sion of  a man  who  had  faced  the  hard  facts  of  life 
and  was  bracing  himself  for  the  trials  which  he  knew 
he  must  still  meet.  The  boy  who  had  been  a ring- 
leader among  his  gay  companions  was  now  a proud, 
cold  lad  who  had  little  to  do  with  the  people  about 
him.  This  aloofness  on  his  part  was  a constant 
source  of  pleasure  to  Ye  Chun  Suk,  whose  admira- 
tion for  the  high-born  son  was  unlimited.  This  one 
person,  at  least,  he  did  not  try  to  bully  or  bend  to 
his  own  will.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  by  basking 
in  his  light  he  himself  would  reflect  some  borrowed 
glory  of  the  gentry,  and  his  attitude  of  familiarity 
and  jocular  good  fellowship  were  extremely  awk- 
ward and  amusing.  Noch  Kyung  found  this  almost 
as  distasteful  as  the  rough  manner  with  which  Ye 
treated  those  whom  he  considered  beneath  him. 

There  was  something  queer  about  the  actions 
of  Father  Ye,  which  made  the  boy  suspicious 
and  uneasy.  Night  trips  were  common  when  he 
slipped  out  of  the  house,  evidently  believing  him- 
self to  be  unobserved,  and  then  slunk  back  again 
before  the  dawn.  Where  did  he  go  on  these  secret 
errands?  Noch  Kyung  made  up  his  mind  to  find 
out,  wondering  if  they  had  anything  to  do  with  the 
mysterious  source  of  Ye’s  wealth,  the  existence  of 
which  he  denied  and  seemed  so  anxious  to  hide. 

It  was  a lovely  day  in  early  spring.  Six  months 
had  slowly  dragged  their  weary  length  since  Noch 
Kyung  had  come  to  be  an  inmate  of  the  big  thatched 
house  in  Saemal;  but  those  nearest  him,  as  well  as 
the  villagers,  felt  that  he  was  still  a stranger  and 
4 


50  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

that  his  life  was  lonely.  The  uncouth,  burly  fellows 
of  the  neighborhood  felt  the  recognized  difference 
in  social  cast  as  keenly  as  he. 

A few  more  luxuries  had  been  added  to  the  plain 
comforts  of  the  house,  the  most  notable  of  which 
was  an  aristocratic  donkey,  on  which  Ye  rode  back 
and  forth  from  the  fields  and  at  times  took  more 
distant,  unknown  journeys.  The  little  gray  beast, 
friendly  and  kind,  was  fast  becoming  a great  favorite 
with  the  silent  boy.  Ye  Chun  Suk  was  somewhat 
less  cautious  in  his  use  of  money  than  formerly. 
Was  the  consuming  passion  of  the  miser  giving  way 
before  the  pleasures  derived  from  this  use  of  his 
means?  Were  the  aspirations  of  respectability  and 
the  honor  of  his  fellows  growing  stronger  than  his 
love  for  gold?  Perhaps  it  was  only  that  his  income 
was  being  secretly  enlarged  in  some  mysterious  way. 

By  the  call  of  the  wild  nesting  birds  on  the  hills, 
the  young  buds  bursting  into  tender  green,  the  soft 
balmy  fragrance  in  the  air,  and  the  thousand  vibrant 
voices  everywhere  nature  spoke  of  a new  awaken- 
ing, an  awakening  to  the  joys  and  ecstasy  of  spring- 
time. In  the  sad  heart  of  the  young  man  who  walked 
along  the  shining  sand  of  the  seashore,  however,  there 
was  no  spring,  only  the  bleakness  of  winter.  Noch 
Kyung  came  to  a sloping  hill  where  a stony  point 
overlooked  the  changing  sea.  This  promontory 
was  far  enough  from  the  village  to  be  reasonably 
sure  of  being  undisturbed,  and  it  had  become  his 
favorite  resort  for  meditation.  He  came  here  to 
think  and  dream.  Away  from  the  vile  filth  and 
offal  of  the  fishery,  away  from  the  squalid  mean- 
ness and  commonplaceness  of  the  people,  he  could 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


51 


here  forget  his  fate  for  a little  and  dream  of  other 
days.  He  stood  with  folded  arms  and  gazed  out 
over  the  waters.  It  was  mid-afternoon,  and  the 
sun  cast  a shimmering  light  of  silver  over  the  faint 
blue  of  sky  and  sea  until  it  merged  into  an  indis- 
tinct blur.  The  white  sails  of  the  fishing  boats 
looked  like  huge  gulls  poised  between  earth  and  sky. 
Across  the  radiant  sheen  of  the  sea  came  the  sing- 
song echoes  of  happy  fishermen  homeward  bound. 

“Is  it  possible  that  I am  the  only  creature  that 
is  sad  and  lonely  on  this  spring  day?”  murmured 
Noch  Kyung,  setting  his  lips  in  a thin,  firm  line.  He 
stood  there  a long  time  and  thought  of  the  far-away 
home,  and  the  old  comrades  of  his  childhood.  What 
were  they  doing  in  the  city?  Did  they  ever  think  of 
him  and  miss  him,  or  had  some  one  already  taken 
that  place  of  leadership  which  had  been  his?  He 
struggled  hard  to  keep  the  tears  from  his  eyes  but 
only  made  the  ache  in  his  throat  more  intolerable. 

“ How  long,  I wonder,  before  I can  see  them  again !” 
he  mused.  “I  shall  write  to  father  and  ask  him  to 
let  me  have  a short  visit  home.  That  will  help  some- 
what!” 

Suddenly,  as  he  stood  thus  gazing  over  the  sea, 
there  faintly  came  to  his  ears  the  sound  of  rapid 
footsteps  on  the  hard  sand.  Wondering  if  some 
one  had  followed  him  to  his  hiding  place,  he  turned 
and  looked  down  the  rocky  path  to  the  beech.  Who 
was  this?  A flying  figure  in  bright  blue  skirt  and  a 
vivid  red  jacket  was  coming  over  the  sand.  It  was 
with  astonishment  that  he  watched  her  come  to 
within  a few  yards  of  him,  her  face  bearing  a look  of 


52  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

distress  and  fear  as  she  stopped  with  an  air  of  startled 
uncertainty. 

“Kumokie!”  he  exclaimed.  “What  does  this 
mean?” 

“Grandfather  sent  me  to  call  you,”  she  panted. 

“But  how  did  you  know  where  I was?  How  did 
you  dare  to  follow  me?” 

How  stern  and  angry  he  was  now ! Gone  was  the 
big-brother  attitude  which  he  generally  bore  to  her 
on  those  rare  occasions  when  he  deigned  to  notice 
her  at  all.  Now  his  stern  eyes  and  his  harsh  voice 
frightened  the  child.  She  put  her  finger  in  her 
mouth,  hung  her  head  in  shame,  and  dug  her 
sandaled  toe  into  the  damp  earth.  The  beautiful 
brown  eyes  were  brimming  with  tears.  She  was 
just  about  to  flee  in  dismay  when  his  voice  came 
again  a little  less  severe. 

“Don’t  be  so  fearful  of  me!  I have  never  been 
unkind  to  you,  have  I?  Tell  me,  how  did  you  know 
I was  here?” 

“I  knew  you  were  here.”  The  tears  were  run- 
ning over  now;  so  she  thrust  both  chubby  fists  into 
her  streaming  eyes  and  turned  her  back  upon  him. 

“Yes,  but  how  did  you  know?”  His  tones  were 
kinder,  more  like  his  usual  gentle  way,  and  she 
turned  again  to  look  at  him  to  make  sure  whether 
she  dare  linger  to  tell  him  about  the  strange  happen- 
ings at  home  or  whether  it  would  be  best  to  flee. 
Noch  Kyung  was  very  much  annoyed  that  his  secret 
place  had  been  discovered,  especially  by  this  despised 
creature,  and  was  thinking  more  of  this  than  the 
urgent  matter  which  brought  her.  For  her  part, 
she  decided  that  he  was  not  angry  enough  to  beat 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


53 


her,  as  grandfather  was  quite  sure  to  do  if  his  mes- 
sages were  not  delivered.  To  meet  him  seemed  the 
safer;  so  she  lingered,  though  far  enough  away  to 
run  if  necessity  demanded. 

“ I saw  you  come.” 

“Have  you  followed  me  before?” 

Poor,  miserable,  little  culprit!  She  caught  her 
skirt  in  her  nervous  fingers  and  twisted  it  into  a 
rope  as  she  dumbly  nodded  her  head.  She  was 
naturally  a truthful  child,  and  it  had  not  occurred 
to  her  to  evade  his  anger  by  telling  a lie.  After  all, 
she  was  such  a child.  How  could  she  know  .that  it 
was  indelicate  and  immodest  to  follow  her  lord  to 
the  seashore?  This  proud,  handsome  boy  had  such 
a fascination  for  Kumokie.  He  paid  so  little  atten- 
tion to  her  that  he  did  not  know  that  those  great 
eyes  of  hers  were  often  on  him  in  unchildlike  ten- 
derness when  he  thought  himself  alone.  This  anger 
and  disgust  of  his  cut  her  heart  like  a knife.  She 
was  a pitiful,  forlorn  little  figure  as  she  stood  thus 
apart,  writhing  under  his  contempt.  But  the  boy’s 
heart  was  too  full  of  his  own  misery  to  pity  her. 

“ I — I didn’t  know  that  you  cared,  that  you  would 
be  so  angry — I — that  you  didn’t  like  it,”  faltered 
the  little  girl.  “ I won’t  do  it  again.” 

“Well,  see  that  you  don’t.”  The  indignant 
chap  turned  on  his  heel  and  was  about  to  stride  off 
down  the  beach  when  he  remembered  that  she  came 
with  a message  for  him.  “Why  were  you  sent  to 
call  me?” 

“I  don’t  know.  Grandfather  is  acting  very 
strange.  He  has  heard  a voice  calling  him,  and  he 
is  much  worried.”  Her  face  was  greatly  troubled. 


54 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


“Voice?  A voice  calling?  Sounds  sort  of  daffy. 
He  isn’t  crazy,  I hope!” 

This  conversation  was  beyond  the  depth  of 
Kumokie,  but  the  earnest  eyes  that  searched  his 
were  like  the  faithful  eyes  of  a dog. 

“Come;  I’ll  sit  down  now.  Tell  me  what  you 
know  about  this  matter.”  He  seated  himself  on  a 
huge  bowlder,  but  she  stood  rigidly  at  attention, 
her  whole  mind  bent  on  saying  nothing  that  would 
displease  him. 

“All  that  I know  is  that  when  grandfather  came  in 
from  the  rice  field  where  the  men  were  plowing 
he  looked  strange  and  frightened;  his  eyes  were 
awful  to  behold.  I heard  him  telling  grandmother 
that  the  spirits  were  calling  him,  that  his  father, 
who  has  now  been  dead  a long  time,  had  spoken  to 
him  this  morning.” 

“What  did  the  voice  say?”  Noch  Kyung  was 
skeptical.  His  father-in-law  disgusted  him  beyond 
measure  with  his  superstition  and  witch-goblin 
ideas.  He  himself  was  a Confucianist,  as  fitted  a 
gentleman  of  the  literati.  Such  folly  as  this  was 
only  fit  for  women  and  children. 

Kumokie  had  a splendid  memory,  but  her  voice 
was  low  and  frightened:  “ ‘My  grave!  My  grave! 
My  grave!’  Three  times  like  that.  Slowly  so,  three 
times.” 

“O  rats!  What  stuff  is  this?” 

“O,  don’t  you  know?  It  might  be  that  the  grave 
site  must  be  moved.  If  that  be  wrongly  placed,  we 
shall  all  have  bad  luck  because  the  spirit  cannot 
rest!” 

“Noch  Kyung  looked  at  the  young  prophetess 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


55 


thoughtfully,  and  the  kindness  in  his  face  made  her 
less  uneasy.  “Huh!”  he  grunted.  “Does  he  want 
me  to  go  spirit  chasing,  or  to  answer  this  visitant 
from  another  world  ?” 

“I  don’t  just  know.  But  he  said  that  you  could 
ride  the  donkey  and  go  tell  the  chiquan  [geomancer] 
to  come  quickly  and  find  out  the  trouble.” 

“So?  I see.  I’m  to  find  some  one  who  is  more 
capable  of  answering  the  voice!  All  right!”  But 
he  did  not  make  any  move  to  start  on  this  mission. 
His  gaze  was  on  the  distant  horizon.  As  he  looked 
with  unseeing  eyes  across  the  sheet  of  silver  his  sad 
expression  of  face  returned.  “I  wonder  what  trou- 
ble is  brewing  for  us  now?” 

The  child  did  not  answer  this  query,  but  watched 
every  shade  of  expression  on  his  face  with  the  light 
of  adoration  on  her  own.  This  man  was  like  a young 
god  to  her;  he  had  never  been  cross  until  to-day; 
he  was  proud  and  cold  and  distant,  but  that  was 
because  he  was  of  the  nobility  and  he  had  a right 
to  be!  As  she  watched  his  expression  she  saw  the 
look  of  sadness,  and  with  a gesture  of  loving  pity 
she  took  a step  closer  and  laid  a timid  finger  on  his 
sleeve. 

“Say!  Are  you  so  very  unhappy  with  us?  Mother 
says  you  are.” 

“Hey?  What’s  that?”  He  hurriedly  got  to  his 
feet  and  shook  off  the  gentle  hand.  “We  had  bet- 
ter go,  I guess.” 

He  could  not  endure  her  pity,  but  strode  along 
the  sand  at  a fast  swinging  gait.  The  child  fol- 
lowed, sometimes  breaking  into  a run  to  keep  from 
losing  sight  of  her  hero  along  the  curving  beach. 


56  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

At  last  they  passed  the  few  boats  anchored  in  the 
river’s  mouth,  the  gray  old  houses  with  the  neigh- 
bor children  basking  in  the  sunshine,  and,  finally, 
through  the  group  of  curious-eyed  sight-seers  who 
filled  the  door  and  courtyard  of  the  Ye  home. 
Noch  Kyung  went  on  to  the  sarang.  There  a strange 
sight  met  the  boy’s  vision:  the  cantankerous  old 
man  Ye,  the  bully  of  the  village,  the  fear  and  terror 
of  his  family,  was  weeping  like  a woman.  Hysterical 
and  wild,  his  voice  rang  out  so  that  all  could  hear. 

“ ‘My  grave!  My  grave!  My  grave!’ — that  is 
what  it  said.  And,  T know  my  father’s  voice.  I 
tell  you  it  was  surely  his  voice!’  ” 

The  faces  of  those  in  the  courtyard  were  filled 
with  horror,  incredulity,  wonder.  What  strange 
drama  was  this  which  was  being  enacted  before 
them?  The  simple  country  people  tell  many  dark 
stories  of  goblins  and  fairies,  their  myths  and  leg- 
ends of  imps,  hobgoblins,  and  ghosts  which  would 
fill  a library.  In  the  winter  nights,  when  the  wind 
howls  about  the  court  and  weird,  unnatural  sounds 
come  from  the  dim,  unknown  regions  of  darkness, 
they  whisper  these  tales  to  each  other  with  a real 
enjoyment  of  their  creepiness.  So  the  people  lis- 
tened with  great  excitement,  wondering  what  it  could 
mean.  Was  this  really  Ye  Chun  Suk’s  father’s  spirit, 
or  was  it  some  malignant  quesin  or  tokagabie?  The 
master  of  the  house  stood  among  them,  wearing  a 
yellowish,  sickly  green  expression  beneath  his  tan. 
Hair  disheveled,  his  hat  gone,  his  clothes  torn,  he 
was  the  picture  of  fright  and  terror.  He  caught 
sight  of  the  newcomer  as  he  pushed  his  way  through 
the  crowd. 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


57 


“O,  here  he  is  now!  There,  boy;  take  the  donkey 
and  bring  the  chiquan  quickly.”  Noch  Kyung 
had  heard  enough  from  Kumokie  to  understand 
the  condition  of  affairs,  and,  knowing  that  he  could 
get  no  detailed  account  of  the  happenings  of  the 
morning  from  this  half-crazed  creature,  he  turned 
away  without  question  to  prepare  for  the  errand. 
He  inquired  the  way  to  the  hut  of  the  geomancer 
and  soon  was  riding  along  over  the  hills.  As  he 
trotted  along  he  mused  upon  the  belief  of  the  people, 
“Now,  if  the  dead  are  in  paradise,  and  if  the  liv- 
ing by  proper  sacrifice  and  all  due  honor  have  cared 
for  the  souls  of  the  departed,  how  is  it  that  the 
burial  site  and  the  location  of  the  grave  itself  can 
determine  so  much  of  happiness  or  woe  for  us?  If 
a man’s  soul  is  at  rest,  what  matter  about  the  worn- 
out  body?  I have  read  that  in  some  countries  the 
bodies  of  the  dead  are  even  burned,  and  yet,  strange 
to  say,  these  very  nations  are  a prosperous  and 
happy  people.  Yet  some  tell  us  that  a man’s  pros- 
pects in  life  and  in  business  may  be  blighted  by 
burying  his  father’s  body  in  an  unpropitious  spot, 
that  sickness,  bad  luck,  and  all  kinds  of  dire  dis- 
aster are  caused  by  this  more  than  by  all  the  other 
things  we  fear!  Well,  I don’t  believe  it  myself! 
But  Ye  does.  He  is  more  credulous  than  a child! 
I do  believe  that  he  would  spend  every  cash  he  has 
at  the  command  of  any  scoundrelly  sorcerer!” 

At  the  time  of  his  father’s  funeral  Mr.  Ye  had 
taken  every  precaution  possible.  In  order  to  be 
sure  that  all  was  right,  he  had  even  called  in  con- 
sultation the  famous  Mo  Chiquan.  The  large  fees 
paid  to  these  greedy  professionals  were  startling. 


58  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

But  in  return  Ye  had  the  assurance  that  the  grave 
site  was  the  best  in  that  part  of  the  country — and 
perfect  sites  are  not  easy  to  find.  It  lay  about 
thirty  li  northeast  of  Saemal,  toward  the  moun- 
tains, yet  not  far  distant  from  the  sea.  He  had 
been  satisfied  at  the  time  as  he  listened  to  the  ex- 
planations of  the  knowing  ones.  The  “advancing 
dragon,  ” that  is,  the  range  of  hills  about  the  grave, 
was  perfect;  the  “blue  dragon”  and  “white  tiger,” 
hills  to  the  east  and  west,  were  equal  in  length, 
and  thus  their  influence  for  evil  was  overcome;  the 
spirit  which  crouched  behind  these  hills  and  kept 
an  evil  eye  upon  the  tomb  was  certainly  thwarted, 
for  there  was  no  “spying  peak”  to  lend  its  baleful 
influence,  and  the  grave  itself  pointed  toward  no 
other  grave.  The  judges  had  pronounced  it  good. 
Whatever  could  be  the  trouble? 

A short  ride  over  the  hills  in  the  glorious  spring 
air  brought  back  the  sparkle  of  youth  to  the  eyes  of 
Noch  Kyung.  The  possibility  that  disaster  was 
threatening  the  house  of  Ye  seemed  only  a silly 
superstition.  Little  did  he  dream  how  the  events 
of  this  affair  would  mold  his  future! 

Paek  Chiquan,  the  hermit,  lived  in  a tumble- 
down  hut  on  Stony  Mount.  A rough,  precipitous 
path  led  to  the  lonely  heights  and  there  hid  itself 
in  a thick  cluster  of  gnarled,  old  pine  trees.  Noch 
Kyung  left  the  donkey  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge  and 
slowly  climbed  the  steep  trail  till  he  arrived  at  the 
shabby,  weather-beaten  hut,  the  thatch  of  which  was 
of  dingy  gray  and  brown,  evidence  of  the  storm  of 
many  winters.  The  mud  walls  leaned  in  sharp  an- 
gles outward  as  though  defying  the  laws  of  gravity 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


59 


in  the  same  manner  that  the  master  of  the  house 
defied  the  unseen  forces  of  the  spirit  world.  Yet 
the  interior  of  this  ramshackle  dwelling  was  more 
comfortable  than  one  would  at  first  suppose.  The 
stone  floor  had  a new  covering  of  oiled  paper,  and 
bright  quilts  were  piled  high  against  the  wall  to  be 
unrolled  on  the  heated  floor  at  bedtime.  The  room, 
however,  showed  the  untidy  carelessness  of  a man 
housekeeper.  Here  Paek  sat,  poring  over  a huge, 
musty  volume,  the  great  textbook  of  his  profession, 
“The  Great  Important  Celestial  Instrument.”  He 
crooned  aloud  its  magic  formula  in  a singsong  mo- 
notonous tone.  Every  now  and  then  he  stopped, 
turned  his  head,  listened  intently,  then  intoned  the 
chant  again.  After  a while  he  arose,  pushed  back 
the  sash  of  the  long,  high  window,  and  took  a search- 
ing look  at  the  road  below,  where  it  lost  itself  in  the 
shadows  of  the  distant  hills.  From  the  vantage  point 
of  this  eyrie  of  the  pine  ridge  he  could  see  for  many 
miles  the  approach  to  his  house  and  yet  be  unseen. 
Was  he  looking  for  some  visitor?  This  strange  per- 
formance he  repeated  several  times;  and  at  last, 
nodding  his  head  in  evident  approval  and  satisfac- 
tion, he  closed  the  sash  and  returned  to  his  beloved 
book.  When  Noch  Kyung  approached  the  tiny 
courtyard  the  old  fellow  was  so  deeply  buried  in  his 
mystic  rites  that  it  was  not  until  the  boy  cleared  his 
throat  a second  time  that  he  was  roused  from  his 
abstraction  to  the  realities  of  the  world.  Then  with 
a look  of  surprise  and  innocent  wonder  he  pushed 
his  horn  spectacles  up  high  on  his  forehead,  slowly 
opened  the  door,  and  said:  “Did  I hear  a noise  out 


60  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

here  as  of  some  visitor,  or  is  it  merely  the  wind  in 
the  pines  overhead?” 

“Yes,  it  is  I,  the  son-in-law  of  Ye  Chun  Suk,  of 
Saemal.” 

At  this  the  host  hurriedly  arose,  made  excuse  and 
apology  for  his  poor  house  and  all  it  contained,  and 
bade  the  young  man  enter  and  rest  his  body  after 
the  arduous  climb.  But  Noch  Kyung,  realizing 
that  he  had  better  hurry  as  he  had  been  bidden, 
lost  no  time  in  introductory  or  preliminary  talk,  but 
came  to  the  point  in  a businesslike  manner,  told 
Paek  what  had  occurred,  and  begged  that  he  come 
with  him  at  once  to  the  village. 

Paek  Chiquan  was  a curiously  grizzled  specimen, 
dried  up,  wizen,  and  brown.  He  looked  like  an 
animated  death’s  head  or  like  a two-thousand-year- 
old  mummy  should  it  suddenly  decide  to  move 
about  in  life.  His  deep-set  eyes  grew  more  intense 
as  he  listened  in  astonishment  to  this  amazing  tale. 

“Whatever  can  be  the  trouble?”  he  exclaimed. 
“Something  is  evidently  disturbing  the  spirit  of  the 
departed;  but  I myself  was  present  at  the  funeral  of 
Ye  Chun  Suk’s  father,  and  I am  quite  sure  that 
all  things  from  the  sangyu  [death  carriage]  to  the 
sinju  [spirit  tablet]  and  the  chisuk  [tombstone] 
were  in  perfect  order  and  that  there  are  no  dis- 
quieting influences  about  his  resting  place!  For 
fifteen  years  his  spirit  has  been  in  peace.  What 
can  be  the  trouble?” 

Noch  Kyung  had  no  solution  to  offer  this  difficult 
problem  and  so  he  answered:  “Will  you  come? 
The  donkey  is  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  pass;  and 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


61 


if  you  will  be  so  kind,  let  us  go.  I will  walk  the  short- 
er way  across  the  fields.” 

When  he  arrived  at  home  he  found  all  in  con- 
fusion and  disorder.  The  frantic  Mr.  Ye  was  even 
more  distracted  than  ever  by  the  reiterated  assur- 
ances of  Paek  Chiquan  that  the  grave  site  was  in 
perfect  condition.  It  looked  as  though  there  must 
be  some  other  secret  and  awful  trouble.  This  ter- 
rible uncertainty  was  unnerving  the  strong  man. 
His  whole  thought  was  taken  up  with  surmises  as 
to  what  could  possible  be  the  matter  with  the  poor, 
restless  spirit  of  his  father,  and  the  neighbors  were 
all  eager  to  tell  of  some  such  experience  of  which 
they  had  heard  and  to  offer  advice.  The  mudang , 
or  sorceress  of  the  village,  was  present  too.  She 
had  extorted  many  comfortable  fees  from  him  in 
exchange  for  her  influence  with  imps  and  goblins 
that  she  pretended  were  causing  him  trouble.  The 
great  spirit  of  smallpox  which  had  devastated  the 
home  and  carried  away  the  children  had  failed  to 
yield  to  her  power,  it  is  true,  but  a few  failures  did 
not  shake  his  faith  in  the  power  of  the  exorcist  but 
rather  increased  his  terror  of  the  unseen,  awful  be- 
ings with  which  his  imagination  peopled  all  space. 
One  of  the  friends  told  of  a case  like  this  when  it 
was  found  that  robbers  had  stolen  the  body  of  a 
man’s  father  as  means  of  revenge  for  a wrong  done. 
To  one  of  his  superstitious  and  over-religiously  in- 
clined nature  there  could  be  no  greater  disaster 
than  to  have  the  grave  of  his  father  desecrated. 
It  would  mean  unlimited  trouble  for  him  both  now 
and  hereafter,  and,  even  though  it  took  every  cash 


62  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

of  his  fortune,  no  son  who  knew  his  filial  duty 
could  fail  to  respond. 

Korean  history  abounds  in  stories  of  robbers  kid- 
naping the  body  of  a father  and  demanding  an  im- 
mense ransom  in  return.  It  is  not  the  living  chil- 
dren who  are  stolen  away,  for  the  robbers  know 
very  well  that  a man  will  give  more  for  his  father’s 
corpse,  or  any  missing  part  of  it,  than  for  living 
children. 

Preparations  for  sacrifice  before  the  ancestral  tab- 
let were  going  forward,  sacrificial  foods  were  be- 
ing made  ready,  and  the  memorial  room  was  set  in 
order.  The  family  finally  assembled,  and  the  shrill 
wailing  which  broke  the  stillness  of  the  spring  night 
was  heartrending  in  its  hopeless  sadness. 

“ The  postman  is  coming!  There  is  a letter!  The 
mail,  the  mail!” 

The  crowd  of  sight-seers  in  the  courtyard  took  up 
the  chorus  over  this  unusual  occurrence.  The  dis- 
turbance drew  Noch  Kyung  to  see  what  it  meant. 
Sure  enough,  a rare  thing,  indeed,  in  this  remote 
village,  a postman  stood  outside,  a leather  pouch 
on  one  shoulder  and  a lantern  swinging  in  the  other 
hand. 

“Perhaps  it’s  a letter  from  home,”  thought  he. 
“I  hope  it  tells  me  that  I may  go  home  for  a little 
visit.”  And  his  heart  took  an  extra  beat  as  he 
reached  his  hand  for  the  letter.  No;  this  queer  let- ' 
ler  could  not  be  from  home.  What  was  it,  anyway? 
The  awkward  characters  of  the  address  to  Ye 
Chun  Suk  were  scrawled  in  wavering,  ungainly 
lines  like  the  first  efforts  of  a clumsy  schoolboy. 
There  was  no  envelope;  the  flap  of  the  paper  was 


A Voice  from  the  Dead 


63 


doubled  over  and  glued  down  with  a bit  of  rice. 
Noch  Kyung  took  this  uncouth  document  and  went 
to  the  room  where  Father  Ye  was  still  prostrating 
himself  before  the  tablet.  Of  course  he  could  not 
give  it  to  him  just  then,  but  a letter  could  wait. 
Thus  some  time  elapsed  before  the  strange  epistle 
was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  owner,  and  in  the 
meanwhile  the  man  who  had  played  postman  was 
getting  farther  and  farther  away  toward  the  hills. 
It  was  with  scant  interest  that  Ye  received  the  let- 
ter, his  mind  being  still  occupied  and  disturbed  by 
the  events  of  the  day. 

“ It  is  probably  from  some  of  the  Ye  family  in  the 
Kang  Wun  Province,”  said  he,  turning  it  over  and 
over  in  his  hand.  “ By  post,  you  say?  Why,  it  has 
neither  stamp  nor  postmark!” 

He  unrolled  a long,  scroll-like  parchment  and  read 
a few  lines.  Then  suddenly  the  expression  on  his 
face  changed;  extreme  fear  that  agitated  mind  and 
body  shook  him  from  head  to  foot;  the  hand  holding 
the  letter  dropped  to  his  side,  and  his  eyes  took 
on  a wild,  strained  look. 

Noch  Kyung  snatched  the  letter  from  the  nerve- 
less hand  of  the  terror-stricken  man  and  with  some 
difficulty  read: 

Greetings  to  Ye  Chun  Suk. 

Read  and  tremble! 

Behold,  the  body  of  your  father  has  been  taken  from  its 
tomb! 

Are  you  a true  and  faithful  son?  If  so,  prove  it  now. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  the  third  moon  at  an  hour  past  mid- 
night bring  40,000  yang  to  the  tall  pine  tree  on  the  ridge  back 


64 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


of  your  father’s  grave  mound.  Come  alone  and  you  will 
then  be  told  where  to  find  the  missing  corpse. 

You  are  solemnly  warned  to  keep  this  matter  secret.  We 
know  your  every  move;  and  if  you  report  it  to  the  police  and 
officials,  either  now  or  hereafter,  such  action  will  be  immedi- 
ately fatal  to  you  and  your  family. 


CHAPTER  VI 
A Family  Council 

CONFUSION  and  terror  reigned  at  the  house  of 
Ye  Chun  Suk.  From  the  time  he  had  heard  the 
voice  speaking  to  him  in  the  field  until  he  received 
the  strange  letter  he  had  been  like  a different  man, 
no  longer  a bully  to  be  feared,  but  a trembling, 
faint-hearted  weakling.  Although  the  letter  from 
the  grave  robbers  had  shocked  and  horrified  him 
beyond  measure,  he  found  that  as  time  passed  the 
tension  relaxed,  and  his  mind  regained  composure. 
This  at  least  was  something  definite  and  tangible. 
His  first  perplexity  and  anxiety  was  much  augmented 
by  the  dread  uncertainity  as  to  which  of  a thousand 
possible  causes  might  be  bringing  this  unrest  to  the 
spirit  of  his  father.  Even  the  sorceress,  the  pansau , 
or  the  chiquan,  with  all  their  uncanny  knowledge  of 
mysterious  cults,  might  not  be  able  to  solve  the 
problem  without  much  difficulty  and  disagreement 
among  themselves.  Yes,  much  better  was  this  catas- 
trophe, dreadful  though  it  was,  than  that  dark  un- 
certainty. 

The  frequency  of  this  manner  of  robbery  and  dese- 
cration of  graves  to  gain  a ransom  had  led  to  very 
stringent  laws  with  regard  to  this  matter  in  Korea. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  serious  crimes  of  the  penal 
code.  But,  although  a capital  offense,  it  was  very 
seldom  that  any  great  amount  of  thought  was  given 
to  the  question  of  catching  the  offenders.  The  great 
and  important  thing  was  to  get  back  as  quickly  as 
possible  the  gruesome  missing  treasure.  No  self- 

5 (65) 


66  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

respecting  man  of  old  Korea  would  consider  his 
financial  loss  for  a moment  when  the  honor  and  peace 
of  the  family  were  thus  at  stake.  Robber  bands  who 
made  this  work  a specialty  were  more  dreaded  and 
feared  than  all  the  many  other  outlaws  in  which 
this  country  once  abounded. 

Farmer  Ye  had  been  wise  and  discreet  for  many 
years  in  keeping  secret  the  fact  of  his  large  pos- 
sessions, but  the  transaction  in  connection  with  the 
marriage  of  his  granddaughter  was  of  a kind  difficult 
to  conceal  for  long.  It  was  a much  discussed  fact 
that  provisions,  bags  of  rice,  and  other  grain  were 
sent  regularly  to  the  Kim  family.  Although  Whangsi 
had  been  bound  over  to  secrecy  concerning  the  money 
part  of  the  bargain,  it  is  nevertheless  quite  true  that 
her  desire  to  gossip  and  tell  of  her  part  in  the  affair 
finally  overcame  her  discretion.  The  bandits  were 
not  in  the  habit  of  exercising  their  dangerous  call- 
ing save  when  sure  of  results,  and  so  in  this  case 
they  had  definite  and  reliable  information  upon  which 
to  base  their  attack. 

After  the  reading  of  the  threatening  letter  little 
else  was  thought  of  or  discussed  in  the  village  that 
night.  Five  days  remained  before  the  time  appointed. 
What  would  Ye  do?  The  amount  of  the  demand  was 
exorbitant.  Could  he,  would  he  pay  the  amount? 
There  were  various  opinions  among  the  neighbors. 
Some  thought  that  his  miserly  instincts  were  so 
strong  and  of  such  long  standing  that  they  would 
rule  even  here.  Others  said  that  old  man  Ye’s  fear 
of  the  spirits  and  of  their  all-seeing  eyes  was  greater 
even  than  his  love  of  gold. 

The  next  morning  fresh  sacrificial  food  was  placed 


A Family  Council 


67 


before  the  tables  of  the  ancestors,  while  the  anxiety 
and  suspense  in  the  hearts  of  the  inmates  of  the  home 
were  visible  in  the  faces  of  the  worshipers  at  the 
household  shrine.  Between  periods  of  wailing  and 
bowing  Ye  Chun  Suk  wandered  about  the  court- 
yard with  aimless  feet.  Catching  sight  of  Noch 
Kyung  in  the  sarang,  he  entered  and  sat  down. 

“Woe,  woe  is  me!  What  have  I done?  What  dread 
misdeed  is  mine  that  I should  be  so  punished? 
What  shall  we  do? 

“Quite  true,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  There 
are  only  five  days  in  which  to  decide  and  prepare. 
Every  moment  is  precious.”  The  boy’s  words  were 
coldly  judicious  and  showed  that  he  had  been  think- 
ing deeply,  while  Ye  in  his  frenzy  and  excitement 
was  taken  up  with  the  action  of  the  moment. 

“ Do?  There  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  submit  to  the 
demands  of  the  rascals!  What  else  could  one  do? ” 

Now,  Noch  Kyung  had  little  patience  with  the 
old  man’s  fetishism,  but  when  it  became  a question 
of  reverence  of  ancestors  it  was  a very  different  mat- 
ter. This  had  turned  out  to  be  a matter  of  much 
more  importance  than  he  had  supposed  when  he 
first  heard  the  story  of  the  ghostly  voice.  He  prided 
himself  on  being  a Confucianist,  and  in  this  great 
orthodox  belief  of  the  scholar  ancestral  worship  is 
the  chief  corner  stone.  You  may  not  be  a believer 
in  goblins,  imps,  evil  spirits,  divination,  or  star  in- 
fluences, but  you  must,  under  all  conditions,  follow 
the  forms  and  rites  of  ancestor  worship. 

“What  shall  I do?’’  repeated  Ye  in  a voice  of 
shrill  annoyance. 

The  boy,  knowing  very  well  what  would  be  the 


68  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

action  in  such  a case  in  his  own  family,  gave  his 
opinion  of  what  would  be  the  proper  thing  here. 

“Have  I not  heard  you  say  that  the  elder  of  your 
family  clan,  your  father’s  oldest  brother,  lives  in 
Kang  Wun  Province?  Such  an  important  matter 
concerns  the  whole  family.  Is  it  not  of  sufficient 
moment  to  be  taken  up  in  the  conclave  of  the  family 
council?  If  such  a calamity  occurred  in  our  Kim 
clan,  that  would  be  the  first  step.  This  is  surely  too 
great  a matter  for  private  decision.” 

This  was  a very  sane  and  sensible  speech  for  one 
so  young,  and  Ye  looked  at  his  son-in-law  in  pleased 
surprise.  “Very  wisely  said ! ” replied  he,  then  he  sat 
quietly  thinking  it  over.  At  last  he  looked  up  with 
something  like  relief  in  his  worn  face.  “I’ll  start 
to-day!  There  are  several  reasons  why  it  will  be 
well.  They  may  help  me  raise  the  money.  Perhaps 
they  will  counsel  catching  the  thieves.  My  uncle 
lives  two  days’  journey  from  here.  That  gives  me  a 
day  for  the  conference  and  plenty  of  time  in  which 
to  go  and  come.” 

Having  made  this  decision,  Father  Ye  hurried  to 
his  feet  and  hustled  out  to  set  things  moving.  There 
were  not  many  preparations  to  be  made  for  the 
journey.  The  gentle  donkey  was  fitted  with  his 
odd-looking,  high-bridge  saddle.  Being  one  of  the 
few  well-trained  “bridle-wise”  animals,  he  did  not 
need  a mapu  to  run  along  in  front  and  lead  him. 
Mother  Ye  filled  a brass  bowl  with  flaky  rice,  folded 
it  in  a napkin  for  his  lunch,  and  tied  it  to  the  back 
of  the  saddle. 

Much  of  the  mountain  road  that  he  was  to  travel 
was  through  wild,  unsettled  sections  known  to  be  in- 


A Family  Council 


69 


fested  by  robbers;  so  he  was  careful  to  take  nothing 
of  value  except  a few  cash  to  pay  for  necessary  food 
and  night’s  lodging.  It  was  by  no  means  such  a route 
as  one  would  select  for  a pleasure  trip ; but  this  was 
a matter  of  stern  duty,  and  Ye  was  not  a coward. 
In  fact,  he  was  almost  a brave  man  where  visible, 
tangible  enemies  were  concerned;  only  when  those 
fearful  inhabitants  of  the  dark  world  of  spirits  were 
in  question  did  he  quake  and  tremble. 

The  noon  sun  saw  him  started  on  his  way  across 
the  brown  hills  toward  the  mountains  on  Kang  Wun 
Do.  That  night  he  slept  at  a wayside  inn.  On  the 
evening  of  the  second  day  he  neared  his  old  home 
village  of  San  Kohl  with  no  incident  worthy  of  note 
to  mark  the  journey.  The  few  houses  of  this  remote 
hamlet  were  mostly  of  the  Ye  family.  From  the 
general  air  of  comfort,  one  would  suppose  that  they 
were  neither  rich  nor  poor,  and  such,  indeed,  was  the 
case.  They  were  middle-class  people,  farmers  who 
had  what  they  needed  to  eat,  with  sufficient  produce 
to  sell  or  trade  in  the  market  town  for  cloth  and 
farming  implements.  The  tough  little  donkey  was 
pretty  well  spent  as  he  overtopped  the  last  pass  and 
came  in  sight  of  the  gray,  old  rambling  house,  the 
home  of  Ye’s  childhood.  But  Ye  Chun  Suk  was 
far  from  being  a man  of  sentiment,  and  just  then  his 
attention  was  fully  centered  on  things  vastly  more 
important  than  memories  of  the  past.  He  dis- 
mounted before  the  deeply  thatched  gateway,  left 
the  faithful  mount  with  trailing  bridle  and  drooping 
head,  opened  the  ponderous  gate,  and  entered  the 
broad  courtyard  of  the  homestead. 

The  elder  of  the  Ye  clan  was  an  old  man,  but  hale 


70  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

and  hearty  still  in  spite  of  his  eighty  storm-swept 
winters.  He  heard  the  painful  creaking  of  the  gate 
on  its  rusty  hinges  and  peeped  out  through  a hole  in 
the  paper  covering  of  the  door.  Seeing  his  nephew 
advancing,  he  shoved  back  the  sliding  door  at  the 
entrance  of  the  sarang  and  greeted  him. 

“My  son!  Have  you  come  in  peace?  I have  not 
seen  you  since  the  family  gathering  at  the  harvest 
festival  in  the  eleventh  moon.  Come  in;  you  are 
welcome  home!” 

With  a few  words  of  greeting  to  his  venerable 
relative  Ye  entered  the  homely  room  and  before 
long  was  telling  his  interested,  sympathetic  listener 
the  remarkable  doings  of  the  past  week  in  Saemal. 
Elder  Ye  was  greatly  troubled  by  the  news  and 
thought  it  was  certainly  a matter  for  family  delib- 
eration. Of  such  things  he  had  heard  all  his  life, 
but  never  before  had  anything  just  like  this  happened 
in  his  well-ordered  family.  It  was  most  astonishing! 

The  darkening  sky  of  early  evening  found  the  near- 
by members  of  the  family  in  attendance.  Another 
uncle,  two  more  distant  relatives,  along  with  Elder 
Ye  and  the  visitor,  made  a goodly  representation. 
Other  members  lived  too  far  away  and  were  too 
scattered  to  have  word  sent  them  during  the  short 
time  at  their  disposal. 

It  was  one  of  those  chilly,  raw  nights  of  early 
spring,  and  the  five  men  gathered  about  the  cozy 
warmth  of  the  brazier.  The  light  of  the  candle  was 
reflected  by  the  brass  candlestick  and  the  burnished 
plates  of  the  heavy  chest,  which  were  the  only  fur- 
niture in  the  room.  There  was  perfect  housekeeping 
visible  in  the  spotless  cleanliness  of  the  oil-paper 


A Family  Council 


71 


floor  and  the  brightness  of  the  polished  brass.  The 
men  tucked  their  feet  under  them  in  comfortable 
attitudes  and,  with  the  scrawling  characters  of  the 
letter  spread  out  before  them,  filled  their  long- 
stemmed pipes  from  the  old  man’s  tobacco  pouch. 

“The  corpse-stealing  robbers — dogs!  They  are 
getting  altogether  too  bold!  For  my  part,  I believe 
that  they  ought  to  be  punished.  The  heads  of  a few 
such  offenders  hung  up  before  the  south  gate  of  the 
capital  would  be  a wholesome  warning  to  all  such  in 
the  future!  That’s  the  law.”  Thus  spoke  Ye  Pilsu. 

“But  how?”  This  speaker  was  a swarthy-faced 
newcomer.  “Don’t  they  take  every  precaution  for 
safety?  And  even  though  you  catch  one  or  two  of 
them,  which,  after  all,  might  not  be  difficult,  there  is 
the  biggest  part  of  the  gang  left,  and,  the  thing  of 
most  importance,  the  body  of  our  brother  still  mis- 
sing. What  good  would  it  do?  It  would  be  like 
binding  a tiger  with  rotten  straw  rope.” 

“Call  out  the  gendarmes,”  interrupted  the  first 
speaker;  “rouse  the  whole  countryside;  have  the 
soldiers  and  officials  out  and  clean  up  the  entire 
bunch!  Don’t  be  easy  about  it,  or  dumb  like  a lot  of 
cattle.  Make  a fight!” 

“Yes;  that’s  sooner  said  than  done.  It  is  not  so 
easy  to  arouse  soldiers  and  officers  of  the  law  who 
have  these  things  to  deal  with.  They  will  not  move 
without  a big  fee  for  themselves  and  then  another 
squeeze  to  each  of  the  soldiers.  Their  half-hearted 
efforts  would  cost  as  much  or  more  than  the  ransom, 
with  that  probably  to  pay  in  the  end  also.  O,  they 
are  just  a crowd  of  hungry  wolves;  take  all  and  give 
nothing  in  return!  I know  these  hounds  of  the  law. 


72  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

It  would  be  better  to  be  in  the  hands  of  the  robbers 
themselves.”  They  all  looked  with  respect  and  pity 
at  this  speaker,  a pale-faced,  sad  little  man  who  put 
much  bitterness  into  his  denunciation  of  the  minions 
of  the  law. 

“It  would  accomplish  nothing,  I tell  you.  What 
is  to  be  gained  by  poking  the  nose  of  a sleeping  tiger? 
But  granted  that  they  might  capture  some  of  these 
rogues  and  hang  them.  Even  though  you  accom- 
plished the  punishment  of  a few,  the  larger  number, 
who  are  very  sly  and  cunning,  would  still  be  free, 
and  their  promise  to  punish  the  betrayer  would 
assuredly  be  fulfilled.  What  would  you  gain?  Your 
days  would  be  numbered.  If  you  call  the  officials 
in,  you  might  as  well  call  your  gravediggers  at  the 
same  time.” 

“You  are  afraid,”  said  Pilsu.  “Just  let  us  think 
for  a moment  how  easily  it  could  be  done.  Agree 
to  their  demands,  and  when  you  get  to  the  place  of 
meeting  on  the  ridge  have  a crowd  of  good  strong 
men  in  hiding  to  nab  them  before  they  know  it.” 

“I  never  heard  of  anyone  doing  it  in  that  way. 
That  is  not  the  ordinary  method  of  managing  things. 
If  you  try  to  take  anyone  with  you,  no  matter  how 
secret  you  may  be,  they  will  know  it  and  not  appear. 
I have  heard  many  say  that  the  very  spirits  of  evil 
seem  to  be  in  league  with  them.  They  are  aware  of 
every  movement  you  make.  No  doubt  they  know 
that  Chun  Suk  is  here  now  and  all  that  we  are 
discussing.  They  always  receive  the  money  first  be- 
fore they  tell  you  where  to  find  the  thing  that’s  lost. 
There  is  no  use  in  withstanding  them.  If  you  do,  it 
will  surely  end  in  death  for  you  and  misery  for  us  all.” 


A Family  Council 


73 


At  mention  of  his  name  Chun  Suk  shivered  and 
cast  furtive,  frightened  glances  behind  him. 

“0,  it  isn’t  that  I’m  afraid — not  of  the  robbers. 
And  yet  I have  considered  it  necessary  all  along  that 
the  ransom  be  paid.  But  what  about  the  money? 
They  ask  more  than  I’ve  got.  You  will  have  to  help 
me.  It  is  a matter  in  which  the  family  must  stand  to- 
gether, for  it  isn’t  a personal  matter,  you  see.  I’m 
only  a farmer.  We  are  all  poor,  and  it  is  generally 
rich  men  that  these  swine  go  for,  as  a rule.  Cer- 
tainly I cannot  raise  40,000  yang  alone.” 

Then  spoke  the  elder,  who  up  to  this  point  had 
said  nothing  in  the  discussion:  “Come  now,  Chun 
Suk;  don’t  lie  to  us!  A man  who  can  pay  down 
30,000  yang  in  cash  in  a bargain  for  a yang  ban  son- 
in-law,  then  send  rice  besides  to  feed  a family  of  Kims, 
can  scarcely  be  called  poor!  This  is  your  business, 
and  it  was  brought  about,  no  doubt,  by  a careless 
handling  of  that  wedding.  We  give  you  the  family 
aid  in  our  advice  and  decision,  but  you  need  not  ask 
us  for  money.”  As  Ye  looked  into  the  pitiless  faces 
about  him  he  knew  that  this  decision  was  final. 

There  were  a few  minutes  of  quiet  puffing  at 
the  pipes,  then  the  swarthy  one  again  took  up  the 
thread  of  the  argument:  “This  robber  gang  is,  no 
doubt,  a band  of  desperate  fellows,  as  such  usually 
are.  If  you  try  to  thwart  them,  you  pay  for  it  with 
your  life.  You  all  heard  of  what  happened  last  winter 
in  Ham  Kyung  Province.  They  said  it  was  this  Ponto 
gang  who  were  back  of  it,  the  most  lawless,  fearless 
gang  Korea  has  known  for  years.  In  that  case  the 
ransom  required  was  so  enormous  that  it  aroused  the 
man  to  fury.  He  claimed  that  it  would  take  every- 


14  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

thing  he  had  and  leave  him  a pauper.  So  he  secretly 
planned  to  catch  the  robbers  who  came  for  the  money. 
This  wasdone  without  much  trouble,  but  two  days  lat- 
er the  man  himself  disappeared  and  was  never  heard 
of  again.  It’s  better  to  be  a pauper  than  a corpse !” 
Thus  back  and  forth,  pro  and  con,  the  argument 
waxed  hot  and  lasted  far  into  the  night. 

Then  again  spoke  the  man  of  authority:  “Time  is 
passing.  It  would  be  well  for  you  to  get  an  early 
start  with  the  dawn  of  to-morrow.  You  must  yield. 
I have  never  heard  of  a refusal  ending  in  anything 
but  confusion  and  disaster.  A true  son  would  give 
all  that  he  had  to  redeem  his  parent.  Did  not  his 
voice  speak  to  you  in  the  fields?  What  clearer  signs 
do  we  need  that  this  is  his  will  and  desire  in  the  mat- 
ter? Then  all  will  be  peace  and  quiet  again.  Fear 
not.  Do  your  duty  as  an  honest  son  and  you  will  be 
blessed  by  the  spirits  of  your  ancestors/ * 

“Yes,  my  father;  that,  too,  has  been  my  thought 
from  the  first.  But  will  not  my  family  stand  with 
me  in  this  trouble?  I have  not  the  money.  What 
am  I to  do?” 

“You  must  get  it,  and  you  can.  As  I said  before, 
you  brought  this  thing  upon  us  by  false  pride  and 
folly.  Now  you  must  pay  the  price!” 

To  remonstrate  was  useless;  to  argue  was  folly. 
He  knew  that  his  uncle  was  right  and  that  if  he 
created  a breach  with  the  family  it  would  only  mean 
that  he  would  be  cast  out  and  disowned,  disgraced. 

The  two  wayfarers  made  good  time  on  the  return 
trip,  and  early  the  morning  of  the  second  day  they 
arrived  at  the  seagirt  rocks  of  the  familiar  coast  not 
a great  distance  from  their  home  village.  Ye  did 


A Family  Council  75 

not  plan  to  go  directly  home,  however,  as  would  have 
been  natural.  Instead,  he  turned  his  course  directly 
toward  the  surf  line  on  the  beach.  The  gray  friend 
was  not  a little  displeased  and  disappointed  at  this 
turn  of  affairs.  In  fact,  he  tried  hard  to  take  the 
bit  in  his  teeth  and  make  for  the  comfortable  stable 
and  hot  bean  mash  that  he  knew  would  be  waiting 
for  him.  It  took  several  severe  commands  and  cruel 
blows  from  his  master  to  convince  him  that  they  were 
not  going  to  those  pleasures  yet  for  a while.  With  a 
despondent  droop  to  his  soft,  long  ears  and  a look  of 
feeling  very  tired  as  well  as  much  abused,  he  was 
compelled  by  the  same  hand  to  wait  for  long  weary 
hours  in  a lonely  ravine.  There  his  master  left 
him  alone  till  he  went  off  on  some  kind  of  a secret 
mission.  Strain  his  eyes  and  ears  as  he  might,  he 
could  see  nothing  and  hear  nothing  but  the  surge 
and  swish  of  the  long  line  of  sea. 

After  what  seemed  an  age  the  donkey  heard  the 
dipping  of  an  oar.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  came,  and 
then  the  faithful  watcher  gave  a great  bray  of  de- 
light and  welcome  as  he  recognized  the  occupant 
of  the  tiny  craft.  But  what  was  this?  Not  to  go  home 
yet?  After  lifting  a great  heavily  loaded  sack  to  the 
donkey’s  saddle  Ye  turned  his  face  again  to  the  north. 
As  he  walked  Ye  held  this  cumbersome  thing  in  place 
while  they  trudged  farther  along  the  sandy  beach. 
Before  the  turn  of  the  tide  it  was  necessary  that  he 
reach  a certain  little  cavern,  a secret  hiding  place, 
which  lay  among  the  rocks  and  sands  of  the  sea  not  far 
from  the  ridge  of  pines  that  shaded  his  father’s  tomb. 


CHAPTER  VII 
A Midnight  Tryst 

THE  setting  sun  was  casting  a glimmer  of  molten 
gold  over  the  western  sea  as  the  wearied  travel- 
ers passed  by  the  fishing  nets  up  the  winding  lane  to 
the  heavy,  iron-studded  gate.  This  was  the  third 
moon,  first  day.  The  fateful  hour  for  the  mid- 
night tryst  was  drawing  near.  Ye  heaved  a great 
sigh  of  relief  as  he  thought  of  what  he  had  already 
accomplished  in  readiness  for  that  time.  The  fami- 
ly rushed  out  to  greet  him  after  the  long  and  dan- 
gerous journey.  Noch  Kyung  took  the  tired  little 
donkey  to  feed  and  to  attend  with  the  loving  hand 
of  which  the  little  gray  friend  had  been  dreaming  for 
many  trying  hours.  The  news  of  the  return  spread 
like  wildfire  throughout  the  village,  and  soon  a crowd 
of  curious  neighbors  were  flocking  toward  Ye’s 
house  and  crowding  closely  about  the  door  to  hear 
what  he  had  to  say.  They  were  anxious  to  know  who 
among  them  had  read  him  aright  and  prophesied 
truly.  The  family  awaited  his  words  with  earnest 
desire  to  know  the  result  of  the  trip. 

“Clear  out,  everybody  now,  and  give  me  a little 
rest!  I’m  weary  unto  death!  Whew,  can’t  get  my 
breath  in  this  crowd!” 

The  visitors  scattered  to  their  homes;  but  they 
understood  his  silence  on  the  point  of  interest,  and 
they  guessed  also  the  decision  of  the  family  clan. 

“Of  course,”  said  the  knowing  ones,  “it  is  quite 
natural  for  Mr.  Ye  to  be  nervous  and  somewhat 
cross.  Think  of  the  burden  of  his  heart!”  Thus  for 
(76) 


A Midnight  Tryst 


77 


the  time  being  the  uncouth  fellow  became  quite  the 
hero  of  the  village.  Even  the  lack  of  courtesy  and 
scant  welcome  to  his  neighbors  was  excused. 

Paek  Chiquan  came  at  dusk  to  pay  his  respects 
and  to  learn  the  results  of  the  trip  to  Kang  Wun  Do, 
a very  fitting  and  proper  thing  for  an  old  retainer  of 
the  family  and  one  who  had  such  a personal  interest 
in  the  burial  sites  and  all  that  concerned  them — so 
thought  Mr.  Ye.  He  stayed  but  a short  time,  and 
when  he  left  his  wizen,  dried-up  face  was  more 
monkeylike  than  ever,  so  distorted  was  it  with  pained 
sympathy  for  his  client’s  misfortune.  Perhaps  Mr. 
Ye  would  have  been  less  certain  of  his  fidelity  had 
he  seen  this  look  of  pained  sympathy  turn  to  a leer 
of  triumph  as  the  chiquan  left  the  narrow  alley  of 
the  village. 

Reaction  was  setting  in  for  Ye.  As  he  saw  events 
shaping  themselves  and  became  sure  of  the  way  in 
which  he  would  meet  the  present  crisis,  his  calmness 
returned.  The  strong  mind  was  again  on  the  throne, 
and  the  awful  fear  and  distracting  terror  which  had 
gripped  him  relaxed  its  hold  as  he  realized  that  he 
could  overcome  the  present  circumstances.  During 
the  quiet  days  he  had  been  riding  along  on  the  sure- 
footed donkey  he  had  been  considering  the  situation 
in  all  its  relations  to  his  everyday  life.  He  saw  now 
how  his  folly  and  pride  had  led  him  into  the  very 
snare  he  had  tried  so  long  to  avoid,  and  he  made  a 
firm  resolve  that  the  future  should  see  no  more  such 
foolishness.  It  would  never  do  to  let  people  think 
that  he  had  invisible  means  wherewith  to  defray  such 
enormous  and  unexpected  expenses  as  this.  If  he 
did,  his  life  would  henceforth  not  be  worth  a cash 


78  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

piece ; the  extortion  of  officials  and  demands  of  robber 
bands  would  make  it  a constant  burden.  No,  that 
would  never  do!  It  would  be  necessary  to  make  all 
the  neighbors  and  relatives  think  that  he  had  been 
beggared  by  this  affair. 

“I  must  sell  all  that  I have — all  these  fields  and 
my  farm.  All  my  worldly  possessions  must  go  to 
meet  this  demand.  Neighbor  Han  has  long  wanted 
this  land,  and  it  will  just  about  bring  in  the  amount 
needed,”  he  said  to  his  family. 

The  women  listened  in  pained  silence,  not  knowing 
just  what  this  meant  but  fearing  that  it  foreboded 
some  dire  calamity. 

There  was  much  to  be  done  and  little  time  in  which 
to  do  it.  To-morrow  was  the  dreaded  day.  It  was 
now  the  duty  of  Ye  to  manage  these  preliminary 
affairs  in  such  a way  that  the  members  of  his  clan 
would  not  again  taunt  him  with  having  brought 
disaster  upon  them  by  carelessness  and  sinful  pride. 

During  the  day  following  the  return  of  Mr.  Ye  an 
atmosphere  of  mystery  pervaded  the  house.  The 
villagers  spoke  in  subdued  tones  as  they  passed  the 
door,  then  gathered  in  groups  to  discuss  this  unprece- 
dented occurrence.  They  knew  that  Ye  was  selling 
his  farm.  Some  of  the  best  and  most  fertile  land  in 
that  part  of  the  country  was  going  into  the  hands  of 
Han  Comchil,  who  had  long  cast  covetous  eyes  upon 
it.  To  be  sure,  40,000  yang  (about  $400)  could  not 
be  easily  raised  in  this  part  of  Korea  in  those  days. 
Currency  was  scarce.  Farm  products,  especially 
rice,  passed  as  legal  tender,  and  the  merchants  were 
the  real  bankers  of  the  country.  The  very  real  and 
ever-present  danger  of  robbers  made  it  unwise  to 


A Midnight  Tryst 


79 


keep  even  a small  amount  of  coin  in  the  house.  The 
unwieldy  bulk  of  the  money  was  another  reason 
for  handling  as  little  as  possible.  The  greater  part  of 
it  was  in  ponderous  copper  cash,  so  heavy  that  even 
an  amount  equal  to  yen  20.00  (or  ten  dollars  Ameri- 
can money)  would  have  made  a burden  too  great  for 
a man  to  carry  without  much  inconvenience.  There 
was  no  Korean  money  larger  than  the  nickel  piece, 
which,  although  much  better  than  the  copper,  was 
still  difficult  to  handle,  especially  if  secrecy  was  re- 
quired. Thus  it  was  all  but  impossible  in  a country 
fishing  village  to  bring  together  so  large  a sum  as  Ye 
found  necessary  with  only  a few  days’  warning. 
With  much  flurry  and  bluster  he  made  the  willing 
Han  swear  that  he  would  never  tell  the  price  of  the 
land  nor  the  details  of  the  transaction.  He  wanted 
the  people  to  believe  that  this  was  the  ransom 
money  paid  to  the  robbers ; but  when  he  remembered 
a certain  cavern  and  that  which  was  hidden  there,  his 
heart  lost  much  of  its  heavy  burden  and  a glow  of 
satisfaction  flooded  his  being.  Yes,  in  his  own  way, 
and  a sly  way  it  was  too,  he  would  get  even  with  the 
dastardly  rascals! 

At  sunset  the  patient  partner  of  his  nocturnal  ad- 
ventures was  brought  forth.  The  assembled  family 
stood  about  to  bid  farewell;  but  to  their  respectful 
greetings  his  reply  was  scarcely  more  than  a deep 
growl,  which  might  have  meant  much  or  nothing. 
He  rode  away  with  his  face  turned  to  the  changing 
blue  of  the  eastern  hills.  The  king  of  day  gave  the 
earth  a lingering  kiss  of  glory,  then  dropped  like  a 
ball  of  fire  beneath  the  western  waves,  while  a thou- 
sand shafts  of  opal  light  flashed  between  sky  and 


80  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

iridescent  sea,  but  his  eyes  saw  none  of  this  wondrous 
beauty  about  him.  After  the  steady  trot  of  an  hour, 
the  donkey  was  reined  up  while  they  turned  from 
the  well-trodden  highway  into  a trackless  maze  of 
wilderness.  At  the  far  end  of  a lonely,  rock-strewn 
valley  he  came  to  the  chestnut  grove  which  he  sought. 
There  he  tied  the  beast  and  proceeded  on  his  way 
afoot.  Time  was  precious,  for  he  had  a long  way 
to  walk  before  midnight.  He  feared  to  ride  lest 
they  track  him.  On  foot  he  could  defy  even  the 
robbers,  the  hounds  of  the  mountain,  to  find  out  his 
secret.  The  near  cuts,  the  unused  trails  of  the  hills 
and  vales  about  for  many  li  were  all  precious  to  him. 
Leaving  the  grove  and  its  lone  occupant,  he  made 
his  way  with  the  same  sure-footed  tread  over  hills 
and  through  valleys,  by  fields  and  woods,  back  in  a 
westerly  direction,  to  the  seacoast.  His  feet  were  as 
light  and  as  stealthy  as  a red  Indian’s,  and  anyone 
disposed  to  follow  him  this  night  would  have  needed 
all  the  cunning  with  which  nature  has  endowed  the 
inhabitants  of  the  forest. 

He  stopped  and  listened  carefully  every  little 
while.  When  he  came  at  last  out  of  a patch  of  wood- 
land in  full  view  of  the  great  waters,  a crescent  hung, 
a threadlike  line  of  silver,  over  the  sullen  waves. 
Keeping  still  to  the  hills  above  the  irregular  beach, 
Ye  went  steadily  toward  the  north  until  the  pale 
moon  went  down  in  a faint  gleam,  which  was  soon 
swallowed  up  in  the  all-embracing  darkness  of  the 
night.  He  was  glad  of  its  friendly  aid,  for  now  he 
dared  at  last  to  turn  to  the  hard  sand  of  the  beach 
where  he  made  faster  progress.  With  long,  swinging 
steps  he  pressed  onward  till  he  reached  a place  wher^ 


A Midnight  Tryst 


81 


he  stopped  and  made  a careful  survey  of  the  heavens. 
The  stars  told  him  that  it  was  about  the  second 
watch  of  the  night,  or  the  hour  of  the  pig  (which  is 
shortly  before  midnight).  There  was  the  familiar 
pile  of  rock  which  hid  his  treasure. 

“Well  timed,”  said  he,  observing  that  a certain 
flat  rock  was  just  uncovered  by  the  waves. 

A long  and  searching  look  up  and  down  the  beach, 
listening  keenly  as  he  peered  out  through  the  soft, 
pulsing  shadows  of  the  night,  revealed  only  the  swish, 
swishing  of  the  water  and  the  purling  wash  of  the  tide 
as  the  waves  broke  in  smooth,  widening  circles  on 
the  yielding  sand. 

After  some  moments  of  tense  watching,  he  gave  a 
sigh  of  relief,  put  his  shoulder  to  the  great  flat  rock 
and  exerted  all  his  enormous  strength  against  it. 
Slowly  it  yielded  and  swung  back  as  though  on  a 
pivot,  revealing  an  opening  large  enough  for  a man 
to  enter.  With  the  furtive,  stealthy  manner  of  a 
thief  he  entered  this  dark  cavern,  drew  out  his  hid- 
den treasure,  and  carried  it  to  the  entrance.  With 
much  less  exertion  than  it  took  to  open  it  the  pivot 
rock  was  swung  into  place  again.  The  man  stood  a 
moment  watching  the  lapping  waves  creep  nearer 
the  rock  with  a satisfied  knowledge  that  his  tracks 
in  the  sand,  with  all  evidence  of  his  visit,  would  soon 
be  obliterated  by  the  spreading  waters.  The  bag 
before  him  was  large  and  very  heavy.  Vainly  now 
did  he  long  for  his  faithful  sure-footed  friend,  but 
the  delicacy  of  this  task  made  that  companionship 
and  assistance  impracticable.  With  a strenuous  ef- 
fort the  burden  was  taken  upon  his  back,  and,  bend- 
ing almost  double  beneath  the  load,  he  made  his 
6 


82  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

uncertain  way.  Ye  Chun  Suk  waded  into  the 
water  and  with  slow,  deliberate  steps  followed  along 
the  shallow  edge  of  surf,  leaving  no  footprints  in  the 
sand.  After  half  an  hour  of  this  slow  trudging  he 
left  the  water,  turned  to  the  west,  and  thus  ap- 
proached his  destination,  the  ridge  of  the  tombs, 
from  a point  quite  remote  from  his  secret  cavern. 

“In  very  good  time,”  mused  Ye  as  he  toiled  up 
this  steep  ascent.  Every  little  while  it  was  necessary 
to  put  down  the  burden  and  rest  his  tired  back. 
That  he  was  now  within  the  range  of  many  unfriend- 
ly eyes  he  knew  to  be  quite  probable.  He  knew 
also  that  he  was  now  safe  from  attack  or  robbery. 
The  honor  of  thieves  is  proverbial  in  Korea;  and  if 
this  were  indeed  the  well  known  Ponto,  as  many  be- 
lieved, then  he,  the  most  terrible  of  all  bandits,  was 
also  most  scrupulously  careful  of  his  honor,  the 
honor  of  his  word.  Did  he  threaten  to  kill  a man 
who  disobeyed  his  commands?  Then  kill  him  he 
surely  would!  Did  he  promise  devastation  and  de- 
struction? Then  woe  betide  the  helpless  victim! 
But  if  the  object  of  his  threat  yielded  in  a quiet  and 
obedient  manner,  he  could  be  quite  as  confident  that 
the  robber  chief  would  keep  his  part  honorably  and 
so  have  no  need  to  fear  approaching  him  with  the 
ransom. 

Tugging  and  panting,  the  weary  man  at  last 
reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  where  stood  the 
tallest  pine.  Many  other  pines  grew  as  sentinels  in 
a grove  about  its  feet,  but  this  magnificent  giant 
reached  its  long  branches  to  the  sky  in  brave  fearless- 
ness of  wind  and  weather.  The  soft  zephyrs  of  sum- 
mer and  the  frigid  blasts  of  winter  for  many  cycles 


At  last  he  reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge , where  stood  the 
tallest  pine * 


A Midnight  Tryst 


83 


of  years  had  passed  over  this  proud  prince,  leaving 
it  standing  still  undisturbed,  monarch  of  the  pines. 

Well-nigh  spent,  bending  low  beneath  the  load  of 
metal,  Ye  shuffled  along  until  he  came  to  this  place 
of  rendezvous.  He  slipped  his  bag  to  earth  not  far 
from  a fallen  log  and  fell  beside  it  panting  and  gasp- 
ing with  exhaustion.  Here  he  lay  motionless  for 
some  time,  waiting  for  the  meeting  which  he  knew 
to  be  not  far  distant.  To  his  straining  ears  came 
night  voices:  the  whispering  wind  among  the  pines; 
the  startled  cry  of  some  wild  bird  in  the  trees  near 
his  father’s  rifled  tomb;  the  distant  baying  of  a 
watchdog;  the  hideous  scream  of  an  owl — these 
sounds  only;  no  footfall  or  echo  which  told  of  hu- 
man nearness.  After  a time  of  waiting  which  seemed 
endless,  though  in  reality  not  long,  he  felt  that  he 
had  been  there  waiting  for  many  hours.  He  had 
that  weird,  uncanny  feeling  that  others,  unseen, 
were  watching  him;  that  eyes  were  upon  him;  a 
sense  of  some  terrible,  unknown  presence.  Brave 
though  he  had  thought  himself,  he  knew  that  he  was 
trembling  from  head  to  foot.  That  fear  of  the  un- 
known which  is  so  much  worse  than  the  most  painful 
certainty  took  hold  of  him.  Cold  sweat  broke  out 
all  over  his  body  as  he  remembered  the  horror  asso- 
ciated with  the  mounds  below,  and  he  would  not 
have  been  surprised  to  have  heard  the  awful 
voice  itself  which  had  called  him  to  this  labor  of 
filial  duty. 

Why  did  they  not  come?  The  thickness  of  the 
matted  leaves  overhead  hid  the  stars  from  view, 
but  he  felt  positive,  nevertheless,  that  it  was  long 
past  the  appointed  hour.  Could  he  have  made  a 


84  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

mistake  in  the  date?  He  wished  that  he  had  not  de- 
stroyed the  letter  so  soon.  His  mind  was  so  occu- 
pied with  this  dire  possibility  that  he  did  not  see 
the  dim  figure  which  moved  stealthily  from  behind 
the  fallen  log  as  silently  as  a cat  stalking  a mouse. 
The  creature  was  almost  opposite  Ye  before  he 
realized  its  nearness.  Then  the  stillness  of  the  night 
was  broken  by  a long.,  shrill  whistle.  With  a scream 
Ye  leaped  to  his  feet,  shaking  and  trembling.  What 
new  horror  was  this  which  confronted  him  so  silently 
from  nowhere?  Then  the  human  voice  spoke, 
reassuring  him.  At  midnight,  by  a mountain  grave 
mound,  a robber,  even  a desperately  notorious  one, 
is  a much  less  fearsome  companion  than  a ghost. 
The  voice  had  the  monotonous  strained  tone  of 
disguise. 

“Did  you  bring  it  all? 

“Yes;  it  is  all  here. ” 

“That  is  well.  The  worse  for  you  if  you  had  not.  ” 

The  speaker  was  dressed  in  black,  and  his  head 
was  bound  about  in  turban  fashion.  In  answer  to 
his  whistled  call  two  other  men  noiselessly  ap- 
peared. Obeying  a motion  from  their  lead- 
er, they  took  up  the  heavy  bag,  tied  an  extra 
rope  about  it,  thrust  it  through  with  a pole,  and 
slung  it  between  them.  Then  they  started  down  the 
opposite  side  of  the  ridge  from  which  Ye  had  come. 
For  perhaps  twenty  minutes  the  two  men  faced  each 
other  without  a word.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said. 
Ye  felt  that  the  worst  was  now  over,  and  he  was 
truly  much  more  comfortable  with  this  strange  com- 
panion than  he  had  been  before.  By  the  time  the 


A Midnight  Tryst 


85 


men  with  the  ransom  money  were  safely  far  away, 
the  impressive  stranger  spoke  again. 

“If  you  will  dig  just  by  the  north  side  of  yonder 
tall  pine  beneath  a flat  rock,  you  will  find  that  which 
you  seek.  ” 

With  no  more  ceremony  or  greeting,  the  dark 
visitor  turned.  No  look  did  he  cast  behind  him,  but 
with  calm,  majestic  strides  he  took  the  measured 
pace  of  conscious  victory  down  the  side  of  the  ridge. 
Ye  waited  spellbound  until  he  heard  the  last  faint 
footfall  die  away,  then  shook  himself  as  if  awakening 
from  a nightmare. 

“Well,  I never!  Ponto  the  Terrible!” 

His  eyes  turned  in  question  to  the  great  pine  tree. 
What  was  hidden  there?  His  nerves  were  too  jumpy 
and  unreliable  for  further  investigation  that  night; 
that  would  have  to  await  a more  convenient  season. 
Feeling  again  that  overwhelming  sense  of  an  unseen 
presence,  and  with  an  agony  of  helpless  fear  gripping 
his  heart,  Ye  turned  and  fled. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
Retrenchments 

WHEN  Farmer  Ye  rode  away  that  memorable 
night  to  meet  his  weird  experiences  on  Tall 
Pine  Ridge,  those  who  were  left  behind  could  only 
watch  and  wait  for  his  return.  He  had  scarcely 
spoken  to  them  that  day,  had  been  so  glum  and  taci- 
turn that  the  family  dared  not  even  ask  when  they 
should  expect  him  home.  The  evening  passed  in 
that  peculiar  tenseness  which  is  brought  about  by 
the  suspense  and  anxiety  of  waiting.  Mrs.  Ye  sat 
with  folded,  nerveless  hands  and  gazed  with  unseeing 
eyes  at  the  sputtering  candle.  Kumokie  and  her 
mother  went  to  their  little  room — the  child  to  the 
undisturbed  slumber  of  childhood,  the  mother  to  lie 
awake  and  cough  and  to  muse  upon  the  strange  com- 
pensations of  life.  Noch  Kyung  walked  up  and  down 
the  courtyard.  He  had  wanted  a part  in  this  experi- 
ence himself ; but  to  have  only  the  waiting,  a woman’s 
part,  bah!  This  was  far  from  his  taste.  However, 
the  orders  of  the  robbers  positively  forbade  anyone  to 
accompany  Ye  to  the  place  of  meeting,  and  when  the 
boy  had  suggested  that  he  go  with  him  to  the  foot 
of  the  ridge  his  kind  offer  was  met  by  a gruff  re- 
fusal. Although  the  boy  had  little  love  for  this  harsh 
old  fellow,  he  nevertheless  realized  that,  being  a 
part  of  this  household,  all  which  concerned  it  must 
affect  his  welfare  also. 

Midnight  came  and  passed,  still  Mother  Ye  sat  by 
the  candle.  When  it  burned  low,  it  was  replaced  by 
another;  when  guttered  up  with  grease,  she  took  the 
(86) 


Retrenchments 


8? 


snuffers  from  the  hook  and  carefully  tended  it,  then 
sank  again  into  her  abstraction  and  gazed  with  a 
fixed  stare  at  the  tiny  blaze.  In  its  unsteady, 
wavering  flame  she  saw  reflected  pictures  of  the  dis- 
tant past — pictures  of  memory  that  came  and  went 
in  its  flickering  light,  faces  of  long  ago,  scenes  of  her 
childhood  passed  before  her.  Her  thoughts  were 
not  with  the  man  yonder  who  faced  present  danger 
on  the  bleak  hillside  alone.  He  would  come  back  all 
right,  there  was  little  doubt  of  that  in  her  mind. 
Nightly  vigils  were  nothing  new  to  her,  so  she 
had  long  ago  given  up  worry  on  account  of  these. 
She  waited  for  her  husband’s  return,  but  her  heart 
was  far  away.  At  times  through  the  long  night  Noch 
Kyung  came  and  sat  near  her,  though  few  words 
passed  between  them.  The  crowing  of  the  cocks 
announced  the  coming  dawn,  and  still  Ye  Chun  Suk 
did  not  come. 

The  sky  was  pink  and  gold,  flushed  with  the  rosy 
light  of  a new  day,  when  a familiar  bray  announced 
an  arrival.  The  watchers  rushed  out  to  the  gate, 
unbarred  it,  and  hurried  to  greet  the  master.  The 
donkey,  glad  to  be  home  again,  and  knowing  that  he 
had  done  a good  night’s  work,  rubbed  his  friendly 
nose  against  the  boy’s  shoulder,  flapped  his  long  ears 
in  his  affectionate  way,  then  brayed  again  loud  and 
long  as  though  calling  their  attention  to  the  fact  that 
this  wise  and  crafty  fellow  had  been  through  some 
exciting  perils  himself.  The  master  was  exhausted, 
hungry,  and  in  a terribly  bad  humor.  He  vouch- 
safed no  information  concerning  the  vigil  of  the  past 
night.  His  wife  hastened  to  do  his  bidding  about 
the  breakfast,  guessing  that  all  must  be  well  since 


88  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

he  was  back  safely.  In  fact,  it  is  quite  probable  that 
to  her  dying  day  she  never  heard  all  the  details  of 
that  night’s  experience,  for  he  spoke  of  it  very  sel- 
dom, and  then  only  to  intimate  friends. 

After  some  days  the  stolen  body  was  exhumed  from 
the  robber’s  hiding  place  beneath  the  flat  stone  and 
was  again  buried  with  the  usual  pomp  and  ceremony 
in  its  original  and  proper  resting  place. 

This  disagreeable  experience  cast  a gloomy  cloud 
over  the  disposition  of  Ye  Chun  Suk,  whose  nature 
was  already  sullen  and  austere.  From  the  time  of  his 
granddaughter’s  marriage  his  temper  had  been 
gradually  improving.  During  the  few  months  that 
he  had  allowed  his  family  the  enjoyment  of  a 
moderate  use  of  money  he  had  felt  a very  agreeable 
glow  of  respectability.  This  catastrophe  had  brought 
him  to  a sudden  halt  and  caused  a reversal  of  feelings. 
Ye  was  like  a horse  that  had  been  on  a headlong 
plunge  toward  death.  Drawn  back  suddenly,  he 
had  reared,  turning  wildly  in  the  direction  from 
which  he  had  come.  He  determined  now  to  practice 
the  strictest  and  most  pinching  economy.  Ye’s 
conversation  became  one  continuous  harangue  on 
this  subject.  He  raved  and  stormed  at  the  small, 
necessary  expenses  of  the  household  until  the  patient 
little  wife  was  almost  desperate.  Thus  several 
months  passed  away,  while  the  situation  in  the 
home  grew  steadily  worse.  Mrs.  Ye  tried  to  do  as 
he  desired  in  all  things,  but  abuse  and  not  infrequent 
blows  were  the  only  reward  for  her  trouble. 

In  olden  times  the  true  Korean  gentleman,  or 
yang  ban , felt  that  any  kind  of  manual  labor  was  de- 


Retrenchments 


89 


grading.  He  might  starve,  but  he  could  not  work. 
One  thing  which  constantly  brings  amazement  to  the 
foreigner  visiting  this  land  is  that  there  are  so  many  of 
this  class  who  subsist  with  no  more  occupation  or  visi- 
ble means  of  livelihood  than  the  birds  of  the  air  or  the 
flowers  of  the  field.  They  toil  not,  nor  spin;  neither 
do  they  dig,  hoe,  nor  plow.  Ye,  however,  was  not 
posing  as  a yang  ban,  and  the  consuming  desire  of 
his  nature  just  at  this  time  was  that  no  one  should 
become  suspicious  of  his  income  or  that  he  had  a secret 
source  of  funds.  Thus  with  farming  lands  sacrificed, 
it  became  necessary  to  have  some  other  visible  means 
of  livelihood  that  the  neighbors’  curiosity  on  this 
point  not  be  aroused.  After  much  concern  and  de- 
liberation he  determined  to  become  a fisherman. 
There  were  several  considerations  favorable  to  this 
decision,  the  chief  of  which  being  that  he  could  then 
come  and  go  without  much  danger  of  arousing 
suspicion  or  curiosity.  An  old  fishing  smack  made 
its  appearance,  and  he  announced  to  his  astonished 
family  that,  since  he  was  now  a poor  fisherman,  they 
would  please  behave  themselves  accordingly. 

“This  big  house  I have  sold  to  Mr.  Han,  and  next 
week  we  must  move  to  that  small  house  near  the 
beach.”  This  he  said  with  the  assurance  that  there 
would  be  no  question  or  remonstrance  on  the  part  of 
that  well-trained  family.  Should  his  wife  have 
raised  any  question  about  leaving  the  only  home  she 
had  known  for  thirty  years,  the  home  she  really 
loved,  Ye  would  have  been  utterly  shocked  and  sur- 
prised. 

Noch  Kyung’s  one  faithful  friend,  the  little  gray 
donkey,  had  been  sold,  and  the  boy  stood  now 


90  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

looking  at  this  hard-visaged  father-in-law  and  pon- 
dering this  new  development. 

Turning  to  him,  the  old  man  said:  “As  for  you, 
make  ready  to  go  with  me  on  our  first  fishing  trip. 
We  will  start  at  the  turning  of  the  tide.” 

Ye  did  not  wish  to  be  bothered  with  the  boy’s 
presence,  and  yet  his  idleness  aggravated  him  beyond 
measure.  He  was  used  to  unquestioned  obedience. 
But  this  boy  stood  now  tall  and  straight;  as  he 
looked  at  the  older  man  he  seemed  to  grow  taller. 
Ye  was  fascinated  by  the  cold  gleam  of  disgust 
in  the  boy’s  eyes;  it  held  some  subtle  power  over 
the  hardened  bully.  They  looked  long  into  each 
other’s  eyes. 

With  curling  lips  and  a flash  of  perfect  white  teeth, 
Noch  Kyung  spoke  in  the  short,  jerky  tones  of  sup- 
pressed anger:  “Sir,  if  work  I must,  I shall  at  least 
choose  the  calling  of  a gentleman.  Remember  that 
I am  still  a Kim,  and  no  son  of  Kim  ever  became  a 
common  fisherman!” 

“O,  you  are  proud  of  being  a Kim  are  you?  Small 
good  it  did  you!  I would  have  you  remember  that 
you  are  now  a member  of  the  household  of  Ye  Chun 
Suk,  and  if  you  remain  such  you  shall  obey  me! 
See  that  you  are  on  deck  at  the  turning  of  the  tide!” 

This  was  said  in  a domineering  voice  of  authority, 
but  he  did  not  look  at  the  young  man.  It  was  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  meet  that  look  of  indignant  disgust 
and  to  know  that  he  was  bitterly  despised  by  this 
lad  whom  he  had  for  a while  hoped  to  win.  As  he 
spoke  he  turned  and  started  to  the  gate,  his  heart 
hot  and  angry  against  the  turn  fate  had  taken  with 
his  plans  for  this  high-bred  son. 


Retrenchments 


91 


It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  Noch  Kyung 
did  not  go  on  the  fishing  trip.  The  boats  of  the  vil- 
lagers remained  out  all  night,  and  when  Ye  returned 
with  them  at  sunrise  he  had  decided  that  the  most 
diplomatic  way  to  treat  this  was  to  ignore  it  as 
though  forgotten.  It  was  not  forgotten,  however; 
neither  was  his  temper  improved  by  the  painful 
episode.  As  he  ate  his  breakfast  Mrs.  Ye  hovered 
near.  His  eye  roved  about  seeking  some  object  on 
which  he  might  vent  his  wrath.  Poor  Mrs.  Ye  found 
life  unusually  difficult  that  morning.  None  of  the 
carefully  prepared  food  was  as  it  should  be;  Ye 
roared  loud  complaints  at  her  as  he  rapidly  emptied 
the  bowls  of  food.  At  this  inopportune  moment 
Kumokie  entered  the  gateway  with  a skip  of 
childish  joy.  In  her  hand  was  a beautiful  dove,  the 
gift  of  a friendly  neighbor.  The  child’s  happiness 
was  complete,  governed  by  the  pleasure  of  the  mo- 
ment, and  somehow  this  vision  of  innocent  happiness 
only  made  the  half-crazed  Ye  more  angry. 

“What  now,  my  little  lady?” 

Kumokie  stopped  as  she  saw  her  grandfather  and 
the  look  of  condemnation  in  his  eyes;  the  happy  look 
fled  from  her  face;  her  eyes  filled  with  apprehension 
and  fear;  her  hands  relaxed  their  hold  on  the  gentle 
dove,  and  she  would  have  fled  from  the  yard  had  she 
dared,  but  her  feet  seemed  like  lead,  so  she  only 
stood  before  him  helpless  and  trembling.  ' The  re- 
leased dove  with  a friendly  “ Coo-oo”  fluttered  to  her 
shoulder  and  perched  there.  The  searching  eyes  of 
her  grandfather  found  the  occasion  they  sought. 

“Take  off  those  shoes  instantly!”  he  demanded. 

Obediently,  though  half  benumbed,  Kumokie 


92  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

slipped  her  little  feet  from  the  red  leather  sandals. 
As  she  leaned  over  to  pick  them  up  the  bird  on  her 
shoulder  fluttered  to  the  ridgepole  of  the  thatched 
roof  above.  She  was  not  left  to  face  the  stern  judge 
alone,  however.  Noch  Kyung  was  taking  in  the 
scene  from  the  outer  courtyard.  He  was  not  de- 
ceived; for  he  realized  that  this  fit  of  anger  was 
caused  by  his  own  rebellion  and  determined  that 
the  innocent,  helpless  child  should  not  bear  the 
brunt  of  that  anger.  True,  before  this  he  had  been 
an  unwilling  witness  on  more  than  one  occasion  to 
hard,  unjust  blows  on  the  women  of  the  family  from 
this  household  tyrant.  But  this  was  different  in  that 
he  himself  had  caused  the  tempest,  and  he  would  not 
see  his  child  wife  suffer  in  his  stead. 

Again  the  high,  angry  voice  rang  out:  “Bring  me 
those  shoes!” 

With  hesitating  steps  Kumokie  came  nearer  and 
held  out  in  her  trembling,  dimpled  hands  the  little 
red  sandals.  He  took  them  roughly  into  his  huge, 
clumsy  paws,  turning  them  over  several  times,  looking 
at  the  soles,  and  grunted  while  she  stood  waiting  in 
an  agony  of  suspense. 

“Huh,  worn  out  already!  How  do  you  dare,  you 
extravagant  chit,  to  wear  your  best  leather  shoes  at 
play?  Soon  you  will  have  none  at  all;  no,  not  even 
straw  sandals!”  His  voice  grew  louder  and  louder 
as  his  pent-up  passion  found  expression.  He  picked 
up  a washing  paddle  lying  near.  “Why  don’t  you 
go  barefoot  like  other  poor  children?  There,  now; 
off  with  those  stockings;  make  haste,  too!” 

Kumokie  knew  not  how  to  defend  herself.  She 
had  always  had  shoes.  None  but  the  very  poorest 


Stop!  She  is  my  wife 1 


Retrenchments 


93 


coolie  children  go  without.  No  one  had  ever  told  her 
before  not  to  wear  them.  How  could  she  know?  But 
no  sound  of  this  came  from  her  parted  lips.  Speech- 
less, she  stood  before  her  judge. 

‘‘Quick!  Didn’t  you  hear  what  I said?  Off  with 
whose  stockings!  Disobey  me,  will  you,  my  fine 
lady?  I’ll  teach  you  to  obey,  and  to  be  quicker 
about  it,  too!” 

Much  too  terrified  to  move  now,  the  cringing  of- 
fender stood  helpless  before  the  uplifted  hand  of  the 
strong,  angry  man. 

Before  the  hand  struck  a new  voice  sounded: 
“Stop!” 

At  this  one  word  spoken  with  authority  the 
lifted  arm  of  Ye  fell  to  his  side,  and  with  great  sur- 
prise he  confronted  Noch  Kyung,  who  stood  there  al- 
most princely  in  his  indignation.  Such  an  interruption 
in  Korea  was  unheard  of,  for  a man  who  is  head  of 
his  family  is  absolute  lord  over  his  own  house. 
To  defy  a father  in  the  chastisement  of  his  child  is 
an  unpardonable  offense  of  etiquette.  The  two  men 
again  confronted  each  other,  one  dark-browed,  pas- 
sionately angry,  the  other  cool,  self-controlled,  but 
with  the  glint  of  suppressed  wrath  in  his  eyes.  The 
boy’s  aversion  to  all  that  was  common  and  vulgar 
had  grown  into  a positive  loathing  for  Ye.  As  they 
thus  faced  each  other,  the  older  man  knowing 
that  he  was  despised  for  the  vile  coward  that  he  was, 
his  eyes  fell,  then  shifted  to  the  child  standing 
motionless  between  them. 

“She  is  my  wife.” 

Noch  Kyung  put  a world  of  meaning  into  these 
words,  and  it  made  it  seem  the  right  and  proper 


94 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


thing  that  he  should  defend  the  child  chosen  as  his 
wife  from  even  the  cruelty  of  her  natural  guardian. 
In  the  loving  heart  of  Kumokie  these  tender  words 
lingered  through  long  years  of  sorrow  and  loneliness. 
He  called  her  his  wife,  and  the  words  he  spoke  thus 
bound  her  to  him  for  life  with  ties  more  secure  than 
did  those  of  custom  or  law. 

Whatever  thoughts  may  have  been  in  the  mind  of 
Ye,  he  did  not  utter  them.  More  blustering  and 
quarrelsome  than  courageous,  he  was  completely 
conquered  before  the  just  wrath  and  indignation  of 
Noch  Kyung,  though  he  chose  to  ignore  the  inter- 
ruption, which  was  his  favorite  way  of  dealing  with 
matters  out  of  his  control. 

“ I am  talking  to  you ! ” he  said,  turning  to  Kumokie. 

He  preferred  to  deal  with  those  whom  he  could 
intimidate  by  his  tyranical  manner.  The  child, 
having  regained  her  power  of  action  in  this  moment 
of  byplay,  stripped  from  her  feet  the  offending  stock- 
ings and  placed  them  by  the  shoes.  There  was  a warm 
glow  of  gratitude  in  her  heart  for  her  rescuer.  Ah! 
What  a hero  was  this,  and  what  deeds  of  glory  would 
he  not  do  in  the  world ! As  her  eyes  now  turned  again 
to  her  grandfather's  face,  he  might  have  read  there, 
had  he  been  wise  in  matters  concerning  a woman’s 
heart,  the  dawning  devotion  of  a lifetime. 

“So  you  have  decided  on  obedience,  have  you,  my 
little  lady?”  said  he.  “Well,  just  as  good  for  you! 
Now  get  out  of  my  sight!”  Which  last  injunction 
she  very  gladly  and  quickly  followed. 

Such  domestic  scenes  were  of  constant  occurrence 
in  the  house  at  Saemal,  and  not  always  did  they  end 
so  favorably.  After  the  removal  of  the  family  to  the 


Retrenchments 


95 


small,  crowded  hut  on  the  beach,  the  intensity  of 
Ye’s  temper  and  injustice  seemed  to  grow  with  his 
physical  discomfort.  This  was  the  house  of  a very 
poor  man.  The  tumble-down  mud  walls  had  been 
but  imperfectly  repaired.  The  thin  layers  of  moldy 
thatch  would  surely  leak  with  the  rains  of  summer 
unless  new  straw  were  used  in  lavish  quantities. 
There  were  two  tiny  rooms  and  a single  courtyard  in 
contrast  to  the  spacious  comfort  of  the  former  home. 
These  hardships  were  bad  enough;  but  Ye’s  per- 
versity, his  violent  and  volcanic  outbreaks,  sometimes 
made  his  wife  wonder  if  he  were  not  losing  his  mind, 
so  well  did  that  crafty  gentleman  act  his  part,  the 
role  of  a bitter  and  disappointed  man  who  has  lost 
all  of  his  earthly  possessions. 

Noch  Kyung  had  seen  many  things,  some  of  them 
small  and  insignificant  in  themselves,  which,  taken 
all  together,  were  to  his  keen  mind  conclusive  evi- 
dence that  the  old  fellow  was  playing  a part.  Then 
also  the  boy  was  growing  more  and  more  suspicious  of 
the  secret  trips  made  by  him.  Since  the  addition  of 
the  fishing  boat  Ye  spent  much  time  away  from  home 
supposedly  at  sea;  but  if  this  time  was  spent  in  fish- 
ing, he  was  clearly  a very  poor  fisherman.  Many 
times  when  the  other  boats  returned  with  a heavy 
haul  his  boat  would  be  nearly  or  quite  empty.  What 
was  this  mystery?  Where  did  he  go,  and  what  did 
he  do  on  these  long  trips  alone?  Thus  while  the  boy 
was  making  up  his  mind  to  find  out  the  secret  of  these 
vigils  and  to  see  if  they  were  as  poor  as  Mr.  Ye  pre- 
tended, Mr.  Ye  was  also  reaching  a conclusion  con- 
cerning the  lad.  This  Noch  Kyung  was  altogether 
too  bright,  and  Ye  had  read  in  the  searching  looks 


96  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

the  suspicion  of  the  boy’s  mind.  Either  he  must  take 
him  into  his  confidence  or  get  rid  of  him  and  with 
him  the  danger  of  discovery. 

The  limit  of  Noch  Kyung’s  endurance  was  reached, 
however,  when  he  found  that  Ye  was  not  sending 
the  regular  installments  of  grain  to  the  family  in  the 
city.  His  remonstrance  was  a call  for  an  outbreak. 

“Well,  of  all  the  stupidity!  Do  you  not  see  that  I 
cannot  support  my  own  family?  We  have  sold  our 
home,  and  by  my  daily  labor  I support  my  children 
in  misery  whereas  we  once  lived  in  comfort.  And 
can  you  have  the  impudence  in  the  face  of  these  facts 
to  ask  me  to  send  rice  to  Seoul  to  your  family  while 
we  eat  millet?  Let  the  Kims  work  as  I have  to  do. 
I’m  tired  of  your  idleness.  Why  don’t  you  go  and 
earn  their  rice  and  your  own  too?” 

“But,  sir,  we  do  not  eat  millet.  We  have  food  of 
the  best  and  in  plenty.  Can  you  not  send  my  father 
part  of  your  contract  amount,  even  if  not  all?  He 
will  be  expecting  it  and  depending  upon  it.  ’ 

“No,  not  a grain ! And  if  these  wasteful  women  are 
extravagant  with  the  food,  they  must  stop  it!  What 
fools  they  are ! Can  I watch  every  leak  in  the  gourd  ? ” 
This  speech  boded  more  trouble  for  poor  Mother 
Ye.  She  would  most  probably  be  reduced,  and  that 
right  speedily,  to  the  expedient  of  making  brick 
without  straw,  or,  more  correctly,  to  the  making  of 
good  tasty  pan-chan  with  neither  oil  nor  vinegar, 
chicken  nor  beef.  Ye  was  inconsistent  in  the  matter 
of  food.  He  liked  good  things  to  eat  and  had  always 
demanded  it  for  himself,  neither  had  it  been  denied 
the  family,  but  evidently  consistence  in  household 
management  was  required  by  this  clear-eyed  young 


Retrenchments  97 

judge.  So  he  would  doubtless  have  to  be  content 
with  poor  folk’s  food  also. 

“No,  not  a grain!’’  he  repeated.  “You  sit  here 
like  a gentleman,  and  I work  like  a slave  in  the  fish- 
ing smack  to  support  you.  Isn’t  that  enough?’’ 

This  smarting  taunt  cut  pretty  deep,  and  a 
harsh  reply  was  on  his  tongue,  but  Noch  Kyung 
caught  himself  as  he  realized  that  to  lose  his  self- 
control  was  to  give  up  some  of  his  dignity  and  self- 
respect.  When  at  last  he  felt  that  he  could  speak 
calmly,  he  said:  “I  am  only  asking  you  to  keep  your 
contract  with  my  father.  I had  no  part  in  making 
that  contract — it  was  against  my  desire — but  surely 
you  expect  to  keep  honorably  that  which  you  have 
yourself  sought?” 

A hope  was  dawning  in  Noch  Kyung’s  heart.  Sup- 
pose this  miserly  old  cheat  should  go  back  on  his 
bargain.  Would  he  not  be  free  again? 

While  he  was  turning  over  this  possibility  in  his 
mind  the  man  was  saying:  “Contract?  Huh! 
Didn’t  the  beggar  get  a good  round  sum  besides? 
That  was  enough,  too.  Changed  times  make 
changed  circumstances.  I was  then  a prosperous 
farmer;  now  I am  only  a very  poor  fisherman.  You 
are  trying  to  lead  an  ox  through  a rat  hole!” 

“Do  you  really  mean  that  you  will  not  send  any 
more  rice  to  my  father?”  This  was  too  good  to  be 
true,  and  yet  as  a faithful  son  it  was  his  duty  to  gain 
this  patrimony  if  possible,  and  in  his  heart  he  knew 
that  Ye  was  little  poorer  now  than  a year  ago. 

“I  mean  it!  If  Kim  Young  Suk  had  not  eaten  so 
fast,  he  would  not  have  choked  himself.  What  if  he 
dies?  It  is  none  of  my  business.  A lot  he  cared  for 
7 


98  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

you,  too,  didn’t  he?  Sold  his  son  for  an  easy  living, 
so  he  did;  that  is  a gentleman’s  honor.  Now  let  him 
lick  the  outside  of  the  melon!”  With  a nod  of 
finality  he  went  into  his  room  and  slammed  the  door, 
while  he  cursed  the  whole  Kim  family  and  the  trouble 
they  had  brought  upon  him. 

Midnight.  A tall,  slender  figure  slipped  quietly 
from  the  house.  It  was  Noch  Kyung.  On  his  back 
tied  up  in  a small  bundle  were  a few  of  his  books  and 
dearest  treasures.  Whither?  He  himself  scarcely 
knew,  but  somewhere  in  this  wide  world  there  must 
be  a place  where  willing  hands  could  find  congenial 
work,  where  fortune  and  honor  could  meet.  He 
knew  that  Ye  would  be  glad  of  his  going,  and  he  felt 
that  since  Ye  had  broken  the  marriage  contract  he 
was  no  longer  in  duty  bound  to  this  sordid  life 
at  Saemal.  The  boy’s  heart  beat  high  with  new  ambi- 
tion and  reawakened  hopes.  He  might  still  make  a 
place  and  name  for  himself  in  this  world!  With  head 
held  high  and  with  bounding  steps  he  hastened  along 
the  beech.  He  stopped  a moment  when  he  came  to  his 
favorite  spot  by  the  sea.  He  looked  around  and 
smiled  as  he  thought  of  the  hours  of  bitter  loneliness 
and  of  the  suffering  which  even  now  seemed  in  the 
distant  past.  Such  is  youth,  that  speedily  forgets 
sad  things.  Tender  thoughts  of  little  Kumokie  came 
to  him,  now  that  he  was  leaving  her.  Soon  she,  too, 
would  pass  from  his  mind  and  heart  as  a cloud  passes 
over  the  face  of  the  moon. 

“She  is  a sweet  child.  But  they  will  marry  her  to 
the  son  of  some  farmer,  and  she  will  be  far  happier 
so.”  With  this  comforting  assurance  Noch  Kyung 
pressed  onward  and  faced  the  beginning  of  a new  life. 


CHAPTER  IX 
A Child  Widow 

ON  the  morning  following  Noch  Kyung’s  quiet 
departure  from  Saemal  old  man  Ye  found  a 
little  note  written  in  elegant,  carefully  formed  Chi- 
nese characters: 

To  the  Honorable  Ye  Chun  Suk,  Greetings.  When  you 
receive  this  I shall  be  far  away.  The  life  for  us  at  Saemal 
has  become  mutually  impossible.  You  are  tired  of  your  part 
of  the  contract,  and  I therefore  consider  myself  free  from  the 
agreement. 

Kim  Noch  Kyung  wishes  for  you  all  happiness  and  pros- 
perity. 

For  the  first  time  in  many  months  Ye  laughed 
as  he  read  this,  laughed  loud  and  long.  A cynical, 
harsh  laugh,  to  be  sure,  far  from  being  a pleasant 
sound.  Though  there  was  no  joy  in  its  tones,  it 
showed,  nevertheless,  a great  relief.  His  wife,  hear- 
ing this  unusual  sound,  dropped  her  preparations 
for  the  morning  meal  and  hurried  out  into  the  court, 
drying  her  toil-worn  hands  on  her  apron.  Kumokie 
and  her  mother  huddled  together  in  one  corner  of  the 
tiny  space  which  served  as  courtyard,  and  all  of  them 
gazed  in  awe  and  fear  upon  the  man  who  shook  with 
mirthless  laughter  as  he  held  a crumpled  sheet  of 
paper  in  his  hand.  They  dared  not  ask  the  reason 
for  this  strange  conduct,  but  stood  in  silent  wonder 
awaiting  his  pleasure. 

At  last  he  waved  the  paper  in  a triumphant 
flourish  about  his  head  and  proclaimed  in  great  good 
humor:  “Well  at  last,  at  last!  He  stood  it  much 

(99) 


100  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

longer  than  I thought  he  would.  A brave  chap  he  is, 
too!  Yes,  siree;  I sure  did  make  things  hard  for 
him,  but  he  ate  all  that  abuse  as  long  as  he  thought 
it  was  his  duty  to  his  family.  Why,  I almost  had  to 
drive  him  away.” 

Neither  of  the  two  women  grasped  the  hidden 
meaning  of  these  words.  Their  minds  had  been  so 
long  cramped  that  they  had  given  up  trying  to  un- 
derstand when  man  spoke  a cryptic  language.  Not 
so  with  Kumokie.  Her  mind  was  preternaturally 
alert.  Kindled  by  a great  love,  her  intellect  was  ex- 
panding day  by  day,  and  a woman’s  intuition  had 
come  to  her  awakened  heart.  A strange  presenti- 
ment, a premonition  of  evil  gripped  her  heart  now 
with  deadly  fear,  but  she  clenched  her  trembling 
hands. 

“Is  he  gone?”  the  voice  was  low  and  faltering, 
almost  a whisper. 

“That’s  what!  Gone  for  good,  I guess;  and  a good 
riddance,  too!  Now  we  can  be  comfortable  with- 
out some  one  spying  around  all  the  time.”  He 
gave  another  dry  laugh  as  he  tossed  the  letter  in  the 
direction  of  the  trash  heap.  Then  as  he  turned  and 
saw  the  wild-eyed  girl  still  staring  at  him  he  repeated 
with  a show  of  annoyance:  “Sure;  he’s  gone  all  right. 
But  what’s  the  use  to  look  so  distressed,  you  little 
fool?”  Then  as  he  saw  that  the  child  really  cared 
he  continued  with  bitter  scorn:  “Yes,  my  fine  lady, 
you  are  a widow  now!  But  be  more  cheerful,  we  will 
have  you  married  to  that  spry  son  of  neighbor  Han’s 
in  no  time — three  months  at  most.” 

The  stricken  girl  raised  clenched  hands  to  hide 
her  agonized  face  for  a moment;  then,  lifting  her 


A Child  Widow 


101 


head  like  a young  princess,  she  declared  vehe- 
mently: “I  am  his  wife.  He  himself  said  so,  and  I 
know  that  he  will  come  back  to  me.” 

“His  wife!  Hear  that,  ye  stones!  My  life!  Isn’t 
she  funny  and  tragic?  Now,  this  is  real  comedy. 
Call  yourself  a wife,  do  you?  Hey?  Much  you  know 
about  such  things.  Well,  who  ever  heard  tell  of  such 
a child?  So  you  think  he  will  desert  his  family  and 
come  again  for  you,  do  you?  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Now  very 
likely.  Get  this  fact  into  your  head  for  good  and  all: 
he  has  thrown  you  away,  like  I throw  away  my  old 
shoes.  That  is  every  man’s  right  when  he  so  desires. 
He  will  have  a sure-enough  wife  by  the  time  you  get 
to  be  a daughter-in-law  at  the  house  of  the  rich  Mr. 
Han.”  With  these  comforting  words  Ye  strode  off 
to  the  boats  and  nets  to  spread  the  news  among  the 
villagers. 

The  child,  a widow  before  she  had  been  a wife, 
turned  her  face  to  her  mother.  The  absent  boy  had 
won  even  this  sorrowful  mother’s  respect  during  the 
trying  months  past.  By  his  never-failing  kindness  to 
others,  his  courtesy,  most  of  all  by  his  big-brother 
attitude  of  protection  toward  Kumokie,  he  had 
finally  won  a grudging  approval  from  even  this  stern 
judge.  Now  she  realized  something  of  the  pain  in 
the  tortured  heart  of  her  child,  and,  opening  her 
arms  wide,  she  murmered:  “Poor  baby!  Come  to 
your  mother.”  Before  this  Kumokie  had  known 
nothing  of  sorrow  that  mother’s  love  could  not 
soothe,  no  pain  that  those  loving  hands  could  not 
brush  away,  but  in  a few  moments  she  seemed  to 
have  put  from  her  forever  all  that  belonged  to  her 
childhood.  She  was  no  longer  an  irresponsible, 


102 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


thoughtless  child.  Her  pain  was  the  anguish  of  a 
loving  woman’s  heart.  She  looked  at  her  mother’s 
face,  a sad  face  filled  with  longing  and  bearing  the 
marks  of  many  sorrows.  Should  she  flee  to  those 
tender  arms  held  out  so  longingly  to  her?  Slowly 
and  sorrowfully  she  shook  her  head.  Well  she  knew 
that  her  mother  would  have  given  even  life  itself  to 
have  been  able  to  comfort  her,  but  this  was  some- 
thing beyond  her  reach.  Ah,  mother,  what  an  extra 
stab  must  have  been  sent  to  your  faithful,  gentle 
heart  by  the  knowledge  that  your  little  girl  has 
passed  the  day  when  your  love  alone  sufficed!  Ku- 
mokie turned  blindly  to  the  open  doorway,  entered 
her  tiny  room,  then  with  a hard,  dry  sob  threw 
herself  on  the  floor.  The  two  women  outside  turned 
away  and  mercifully  left  her  alone  with  her  grief. 

The  days  which  followed  were  like  some  awful 
dream,  and  in  after  years  Kumokie  could  never 
quite  remember  their  events  clearly.  She  was  only 
conscious  of  a desire  to  hide  away  from  all  the  cu- 
rious eyes  and  hateful  questions  of  the  neighbors; 
away  from  the  caustic,  biting  sneers  of  her  grand- 
father’s tongue;  yes,  even  to  hide  from  the  loving 
eyes  of  her  mother.  Like  some  hunted,  wild  thing  in 
pain,  she  wanted  only  to  get  away  and  be  alone  with 
her  heartbreak.  The  women  carefully  folded  and 
put  away  the  clothes  and  belongings  of  the  boy  and 
waited  for  an  opportunity  to  send  them  to  their  own- 
er. What  a joke  it  would  have  made  for  old  man  Ye 
had  he  known  that  from  this  bundle  a soft,  silken 
vest,  much  worn  and  now  somewhat  shabby,  but 
eloquent  of  its  absent  owner,  had  disappeared;  that 
the  little,  much-worn  garment  now  reposed  in  state 


A Child  Widow 


103 


among  the  fine  silks,  linens,  and  embroideries  in  the 
bottom  of  Kumokie ’s  bridal  chest!  But  he  never 
knew.  There  was  tragedy  in  her  heart,  but  the 
rough  man  failed  to  see  aught  but  sheer  comedy. 
When  she  could  no  longer  endure  his  coarse  jokes 
and  ugly  laughter,  his  amusement  at  what  he  termed 
the  “child’s  romantic  turn,”  she  used  to  run  away  to 
the  stony  point  overlooking  the  changing  sea.  Here 
alone  the  presence  of  her  husband  seemed  to  linger. 
Here  in  the  very  place  he  used  to  stand  now  stood 
Kumokie,  the  one  who  had  learned  to  love  him  with 
all  the  willful  passion  of  a child,  with  all  the  tender- 
ness of  a woman.  She  chose  this  place  because  he 
had  loved  it.  In  those  old  days  which  seemed  so 
far  away  she  used  to  wonder  why  he  was  so  sad  and 
why  his  eyes  had  such  a hopeless  look  as  they  brooded 
over  the  distant  waves,  now  her  own  dark  eyes 
searched  the  seas  in  just  the  same  yearning,  restless 
way. 

The  flame  of  an  unusually  gorgeous  sunset  had 
died,  though  crimson  glories  still  flecked  the  western 
clouds.  The  golden  glow  paled  to  gleaming  silver. 
As  though  there  were  nothing  else  worth  doing, 
Kumokie  continued  to  gaze  on  the  distant  horizon. 
The  song  of  the  sea  grew  sadder,  more  mournful,  as 
though  it,  too,  sighed  for  a day  that  would  never 
come  again.  The  girl  shivered.  The  chill  of  coming 
night  crept  over  the  darkling  waves.  The  sadness 
that  had  fallen  upon  the  sea  was  cold  upon  her  heart. 
Over  and  over  again  she  intoned  the  words,  like  the 
refrain  of  some  dirge:  “He  called  me  his  wife.  He 
will  come  again.”  Yet,  for  all  her  brave  words,  she 
feared  the  future  life  and  what  it  should  bring.  Not 


104  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

that  she  doubted  her  husband;  no,  not  that.  The 
fear  that  clutched  her  heart  was  that  the  tyrant  of  the 
home  should  fulfill  his  threat.  Helpless  in  his  hands, 
how  could  she  wait  for  Noch  Kyung  to  come?  Sup- 
pose that  he  came  too  late? 

The  flaming  lights  in  the  west  had  faded  to  a dull 
gray.  The  sea  and  sky  blended  in  soft  shadows  of 
night.  There  were  no  more  glowing,  purple  glories 
to  watch — she  was  tired. 

She  turned  and  came  slowly  down  the  narrow 
path  that  led  to  the  sandy  beach.  Each  step  of  the 
way  was  fitted,  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  her 
husband.  The  remembrance  of  his  kindness  and  his 
gentleness  seemed  only  to  enhance  the  realization 
that  he  had  passed  out  of  her  life,  that  most  probably 
she  would  never  see  Kim  Noch  Kyung  again. 


CHAPTER  X 
A Better  Country 

“The  sands  of  time  are  sinking; 

The  dawn  of  heaven  breaks; 

The  summer  time  I’ve  sighed  for, 

The  fair,  sweet  morn  awakes. 

Dark,  dark  hath  been  the  midnight; 

But  dayspring  is  at  hand, 

And  glory — glory  dwelleth, 

In  Immanuel’s  land.” 

THE  dread  disease  which  had  fastened  itself 
upon  Kumokie’s  mother  had  nearly  run  its 
course.  Day  by  day  she  grew  weaker  until,  pale  and 
emaciated,  she  was  not  able  to  stand.  No  longer 
could  she  do  even  the  lightest  household  tasks.  Nor 
only  were  these  now  shifted  to  the  frail  shoulders 
of  the  daughter;  but,  in  addition  to  these  duties, 
it  was  Kumokie’s  pleasure  to  nurse  her  mother. 
By  day  the  young  girl  stood  on  duty,  and  during  the 
suffocating  hours  of  the  long,  sultry  nights  it  was 
she  who  ministered  to  her  mother’s  needs.  It  was 
Kumokie’s  hand  which  waved  the  fan,  she  who 
kept  away  the  vicious  mosquitoes.  Not  once  did 
that  feeble  voice  call  in  vain.  The  girl  did  all  that 
she  knew  to  relieve  the  pain  and  to  bring  comfort. 
The  passionate  remonstrance  of  the  years  past  had 
given  place  now  in  the  heart  of  the  dying  woman 
to  the  lassitude  of  passive  hopelessness. 

There  was  no  money  to  buy  medicine,  so  Ye  said. 
There  was  no  medicine  to  buy,  for  that  matter,  ex- 
cept the  nauseating,  filthy  messes  of  the  old  witch 
doctor,  worse  far  than  nothing  at  all.  Sometimes 

(105) 


106  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

the  kind,  sympathetic  neighbors  brought  some 
brewed  mixtures  of  herbs  or  outlandish  concoctions 
of  unnamable  ingredients  for  her  to  try.  With  as 
little  partiality  as  hope,  the  doomed  patient  took 
whatever  was  brought  to  her.  Steadily  the  racking 
cough  grew  more  torturing,  her  strength  less  and 
less  until  finally  she  could  only  speak  in  a whisper 
and  that  with  difficulty.  Hot  summer  gave  way  to 
the  cool  days  of  September,  which  in  turn  made  way 
for  the  cooler  October  days  and  winds  of  Novem- 
ber as  the  flickering  spark  of  life  grew  weaker. 

Father  Ye  still  spoke  often  of  his  plan  to  marry 
Kumokie  to  the  son  of  his  old  friend,  Han  Comchil. 
He  knew  that  in  spite  of  his  pretensions  to  poverty 
that  the  secrets  shared  by  this  Han  were  strong 
enough  to  make  that  enterprising  gentleman  anx- 
ious to  form  a closer  alliance  with  the  Ye  family. 
To  him  it  brought  a sort  of  fiendish  joy  to  be  able 
thus  to  torture  the  quiet  Kumokie.  Pale  and  quiet, 
she  moved  about  the  innumerable  tasks,  her  heart 
too  full  of  the  agony  of  her  mother’s  sufferings  and  of 
her  own  sorrow  to  have  any  room  for  the  simplest 
joys  of  childhood.  All  of  her  life  she  had  been  a 
target  for  her  grandfather’s  sneers  and  jests,  had 
lived  in  constant  fear  of  this  harsh,  unfeeling  man. 
Since  life  had  dealt  so  bitterly  with  her  the  past 
year,  she  had  an  inexpressible,  dimly  understood, 
but  clear  realization  that  fate  had  done  its  worst  in 
robbing  her  of  Kim  Noch  Kyung.  There  was  a 
deep,  dark  pool  under  a high  bluff  down  below  her 
rocky  outlook;  and  if  the  worst  thing  her  grand- 
father threatened  should  come  to  pass,  there  was  al- 
ways the  possibility,  the  alternative  of  the  rest  it 


There  was  a deep,  dark  pool  under  the  high  bluff 


L 


A Better  Country 


10 1 


offered.  Even  in  her  short  life  she  could  remember 
three  darkened  young  lives  that  had  ended  thus  in 
the  oblivion  of  that  deep  pool. 

In  the  mind  of  Ye  Chun  Suk  the  plan  for  Ku- 
mokie’s  second  matrimonial  venture  was  well  de- 
fined and  determined.  The  only  thing  which  de- 
layed its  immediate  execution  was  the  illness  of  her 
mother.  He  knew  that  she  could  not  live  much 
longer,  and  during  that  time  of  waiting  it  was  nec- 
essary to  have  the  daughter  to  help  with  the  house- 
work. Grandmother  Ye  worked  like  a slave,  to  be 
sure;  but  she  was  slow  and  not  so  strong  as  she  once 
was.  So  Ye  waited  patiently  for  the  time  when  the 
burden  of  the  sick  woman  should  be  gone  and  when 
the  bright-eyed  intelligence  of  the  young  girl  could 
also  be  removed.  Then  he  might  be  really  com- 
fortable with  his  dangerous  work,  for  the  old  lady 
would  be  as  one  both  dumb  and  blind  when  so  com- 
manded. 

The  future  looked  black  indeed  for  the  child 
widow.  She  felt  like  a bird  in  a cage,  for  by  beating 
her  wings  against  the  bars  she  but  bruised  herself 
and  made  her  condition  more  helpless  and  painful. 
She  tried  not  to  think  beyond  the  present  duty;  she 
dared  not  know  what  the  future  held  for  her.  At 
this  darkest  hour  before  the  dawn  a letter  came  to 
her  mother  from  a brother,  Chun  Tochil.  He  lived 
in  a distant  village,  Okchun,  and  she  had  not  heard 
from  him  in  many  years,  neither  did  he  know  of  her 
present  condition.  He  wanted  to  tell  her  his  good 
news,  that  he  had  become  a Christian  through  the 
influence  of  his  godly  wife,  and  he  wrote  to  tell  her 
of  his  new-found  joy  and  peace  and  to  urge  upon  her 


108  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

the  claims  of  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  The 
dying  woman  had  been  very  near  the  brink.  After 
the  hopeless,  futile  efforts  of  the  past  years,  her 
spirit  had  been  sinking  into  the  lethargy  of  indiffer- 
ence. Yet  the  contents  of  this  letter  aroused  her, 
seemed  to  give  her  fresh  courage,  and  to  fan  into 
new  life  the  faint  spark  of  vitality. 

“I  must  see  him,”  she  whispered.  “I  must  see 
Tochil  before  I die.’* 

“I  should  like  to  know  why.”  Ye  was  most  in- 
dignant. “He  has  become  one  of  those  despised 
Christian  dogs.  What  have  we  to  do  with  such  as 
he?” 

“No,  the  Christians  are  not  bad,”  she  replied  in 
that  ghastly  whisper.  “I  knew  some  of  them  long 
ago.  They  are  kind;  love  is  their  watchword.  O,  I 
must  see  Tochil!” 

“A  kind,  loving  brother  would  surely  help  a dy- 
ing sister  and  pay  her  funeral  expenses.  Don’t  you 
think  so?”  said  Ye  to  his  wife. 

Though  at  first  Father  Ye  had  been  sure  that  one 
of  this  hated  religion  should  never  enter  his  house; 
it  might  anger  the  spirits  and  bring  bad  luck  and 
calamity  upon  him.  Then  he  reconsidered  the 
matter;  for  if  this  fond  brother  could  be  persuaded 
to  take  upon  himself  the  burdens  of  relationship 
and  its  responsibilities,  surely  then  he,  Ye,  would 
be  free  from  blame  in  the  matter.  The  expenses 
of  the  funeral  which  rightly  devolved  upon  the 
father-in-law  could  thus  be  shifted  to  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  other  man.  After  thinking  the  matter 
over  carefully,  he  decided  that  there  was  a better 
chance  to  gain  than  to  lose  by  this  action,  and  he 


A Better  Country 


109 


posted  a letter  to  the  brother  in  Okchun  telling  of  the 
condition  of  his  sister.  The  message,  which  found  its 
way  very  slowly  over  the  distant  mountains  by  the 
overland  post,  was  to  tell  Chun  Tochil  that  his  sister 
was  dying,  that  the  Ye  family  was  living  in  poverty 
and  destitution,  and  that  she  was  desirous  above  all 
things  to  see  him  before  the  end,  also  that  if  he  would 
see  her  again  he  must  not  lose  a moment  but  come 
immediately.  Meanwhile  death  hovered  over  a 
miserable  hut  in  Saemal  where  a sad-eyed  young 
girl  kept  watch  by  the  side  of  a lowly  pallet. 

“I  cannot,  must  not  die  until  he  comes!”  mur- 
mured the  sick  woman  over  and  over  again  as  she 
kept  the  grim  enemy  at  bay  seemingly  by  means  of 
her  determination  and  power  of  will. 

One,  two,  three  days  passed  in  this  tense  eager- 
ness of  waiting,  and  the  sick  woman  could  no  longer 
articulate  even  the  whispered  words.  Still,  thin 
lips  formed  the  words  of  encouragement  and  pur- 
pose. Four  days,  five,  a week  at  length  passed. 
The  emaciated  form  was  still  now,  very  still;  only 
the  eyes  appeared  to  live;  they  searched  the  door  at 
every  sound.  Once  in  a while  the  lips  moved  as 
though  in  prayer,  and  the  watchful  eyes  were 
closed. 

Was  it  too  late  now?  She  had  been  so  long  mo- 
tionless that  the  faithful  watcher  feared  it  was  the 
end,  and  in  an  agony  of  fear  she  called  out  shrilly  as 
she  shook  the  quiet  form:  “Mother!  Mother!  O 
mother,  don’t  leave  me  alone!  Please,  please  don’t 
go  away!” 

Just  then  the  opening  door  gave  entrance  to  a 
stranger.  Escorted  by  Ye,  a fine-looking  gentleman 


110  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

of  middle  age  came  into  the  little  room.  He  knelt 
by  the  humble  pallet  and  took  in  his  poor,  tired 
hands  the  hands,  now  nerveless,  which  could  no 
longer  respond  to  the  touch  of  love  so  longed  for. 

“My  sister,  dear  little  sister,  do  you  know  me?” 

There  was  a deeper  agitation  of  the  fluttering 
breath,  the  beautiful  dark  eyes  opened  wide,  the 
eyes  which  a moment  ago  had  seemed  forever  closed 
to  life’s  sorrows.  Slowly  over  their  glazed  dullness 
came  a look  of  joyous  recognition. 

“You  do  know  me!  I came  just  as  quickly  as  I 
could  after  I received  your  letter.  What  is  it  you 
want  specially  to  say  to  me?” 

The  brother  saw  that  her  time  in  which  to  speak 
was  indeed  short  and  that  there  were  no  precious 
moments  to  be  lost  if  he  would  know  the  desire  of  her 
heart.  “See,  I am  listening.  Tell  me  what  is  your 
message?” 

But  even  this  tender  invitation  could  not  draw 
forth  a response  from  the  lips  already  stiff.  With 
unutterable  yearning  the  glorious  eyes  looked  lov- 
ingly into  the  face  so  near  her  own,  and  her  brother 
saw  that,  though  her  mind  was  clear  and  purpose- 
ful, encroaching  death  had  so  benumbed  the  poor 
body  that  it  no  longer  responsed  to  her  will.  Then 
slowly  her  eyes  turned  to  Kumokie,  kneeling  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bed,  to  the  child  she  had  loved  and 
still  loved  with  all  the  deepest  passion  of  her  life, 
then  back  to  him.  Long  she  gazed  into  the  eyes 
bending  above  her.  Then  with  a superhuman  ef- 
fort of  will  she  lifted  the  now  pulseless  hand  and  laid 
it  on  the  head  of  her  sobbing  child,  all  the  while 
looking  steadily  into  her  brother’s  eyes. 


A Better  Country 


111 


“0!  Is  this  your  child?  Yes,  I see.  Do  you  want 
me  to  take  care  for  her?  Is  that  it?  ” The  lids  softly 
fluttered  shut  as  if  in  assent.  “It  is  evidently  my 
sister’s  wish  that  I take  her  child.  Is  this  little  girl 
the  only  one?” 

“Yes,  the  only  one.” 

“Very  well.  I suppose  that  you  will  not  object 
since  she  is  a girl.  Let  us  decide  it  right  now,  that 
the  mother  may  die  in  peace.  I am  not  a rich  man, 
but  my  family  lives  in  comfort,  and  this  little  one 
shall  have  just  what  my  own  have.  Do  you  con- 
sent?” 

Ye  was  true  to  the  old  time-honored  ways  of  his 
people.  He  liked  to  do  things  in  a very  deliberate, 
unhurried  way  which  he  considered  dignified.  He 
didn’t  like  the  way  this  man  had  of  rushing  things  in 
this  manner.  Yes,  he  did  want  to  be  rid  of  Kumokie, 
and  this  was  a very  fortunate  and  convenient  as  well 
as  inexpensive  way  in  which  to  do  so,  but  he  would 
rather  decide  in  a long-drawn-out  conference  which 
he  considered  more  elegant. 

“Well,  it’s  this  way.  I had  intended  marrying 
her  to  the  son  of  an  old  friend  and  neighbor  of  mine, 
Mr.  Han.  This  would  be  quite  a disappointment 
to  me.”  Then  in  a hesitating,  undecided  voice:  “It 
would  be  too  bad  to  overthrow  my  long-cherished 
plan.” 

“Why,  no;  surely  you  couldn’t  be  so  heartless  as 
to  refuse  this  dying  mother  her  last  request.  I be- 
lieve that  you  are  too  kind  at  heart  to  really  do  such 
a thing.” 

The  hurt,  surprised  tone  in  the  stranger’s  voice 
struck  an  answering  chord  somewhere  iq  the  bard- 


112  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

ened  breast  of  old  man  Ye.  To  have  bullied  or 
threatened  him  would  have  only  made  him  more 
determined;  but  the  intimation  that  he  was  so  kind 
and  good  that  he  could  not  refuse  a dying  mother’s 
wish,  this  was  an  attitude  entirely  new  to  him,  some- 
thing not  easily  put  aside.  Suddenly  he  had  a real 
desire  to  appear  at  his  best,  to  be  magnanimous  in 
this  good  man’s  eyes,  so  he  answered:  “This  in  my 
only  and  well-beloved  grandchild.  But  since  you 
are  in  a position  to  do  for  her  what  I cannot  do,  and 
since  it  be  best  for  her  sake  that  I give  her  up, 
then  I consent.” 

“Thank  you.  That  is  unselfish  and  most  kindly 
said.”  The  waiting,  eager  eyes  of  the  woman  on  the 
floor  had  not  left  his  face  for  a moment,  and  he 
turned  to  her  again:  “It  shall  be  as  you  desire, 
little  sister.  Your  little  girl  shall  be  my  child. 
She  is  just  about  the  age  of  my  Elizabeth,  and  I 
solemnly  promise  to  love  and  cherish  her  as  my  own.” 
With  these  words  a smile  of  understanding  and 
of  ineffable  joy  broke  over  the  still  face.  The  broth- 
er knew  that  the  end  was  very  near,  and  his  voice 
was  vibrant  with  sweetness  as  he  said:  “The  Lord 
has  answered  your  prayers.  He  sent  me  to  you 
not  only  to  comfort  your  heart  about  the  child,  but 
also  to  speak  to  you  of  your  Saviour.” 

At  these  words  Ye  got  up  and  glided  from  the 
room.  In  a few  short,  clear  sentences  the  man 
pointed  the  way  to  the  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh 
away  the  sins  of  the  world. 

Kumokie  no  longer  shook  with  broken  sobs,  but 
listened  eagerly  to  every  precious  word , and  when  he 
ceased  speaking  she  cried  excitedly:  “That's  he£ 


A Better  Country 


113 


God;  that’s  the  God  she  has  been  praying  to  all 
these  months.  I’ve  heard  her  at  night  when  she 
thought  I was  asleep.” 

“Bless  the  Lord,  O my  soul!”  and,  kneeling,  he 
poured  out  his  heart  in  praise  and  thanksgiving. 
The  trembling  child  beside  him  felt  a great  peace 
and  calm,  such  as  she  had  never  known  before, 
flood  her  heart,  and  while  he  prayed  the  earth-worn 
spirit  of  his  sister  was  set  free  from  the  suffering, 
crumbling  clay  to  be  forever  with  her  Lord. 

The  two  who  had  loved  her  stood  and  looked  upon 
her.  No  sign  now  in  that  dear  face  of  pain  and  sor- 
row. The  calm,  glad  smile  of  understanding  still 
curved  the  lips,  and  the  man  smiled  too  as  he  gath- 
ered the  little  orphan  to  his  great,  unselfish  heart 
and  whispered:  “Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in 
the  Lord.” 


8 


CHAPTER  XI 
A Christian  Home 

NEVER  even  in  her  wildest  dreams  had  Kumokie 
imagined  that  there  could  be  so  much  love  and 
comfort  possible  in  this  sad  world  as  she  found  in 
the  heart  and  home  of  her  Uncle  Tochil.  That  day 
when  he  opened  his  arms  to  the  lonely  little  orphan 
by  the  deathbed  of  her  mother  and  promised  her  a 
place  in  his  home  it  had  meant  much  more  than  she 
had  ever  seen  or  known — a Christian  home.  When 
he  knelt  by  his  dying  sister  and  strove  to  comfort 
and  lead  her  to  the  Saviour,  the  seed  had  found  fer- 
tile soil  in  the  heart  of  the  child.  This  man  who  had 
come  in  such  a miraculous  way  to  answer  her  moth- 
er’s agonized  prayers,  this  man  who  by  a wave  of  the 
magic  wand  of  love  had  cleared  away  the  clouds 
from  her  mother’s  troubled  heart,  this  kind  man  who 
made  it  possible  for  her  to  die  in  peace  with  a smile 
of  satisfaction  on  her  sweet  face — yes,  this  was  a 
good  man;  she  would  trust  him. 

In  that  dark  hour  of  need  when  the  cruelty  of  Ye 
had  driven  Kumokie  to  such  extremity  that  she  could 
see  nothing  in  the  future  but  the  reflection  of  that  deep 
pool  beyond  the  cliff,  in  this  hour  of  hopeless  night 
this  man  had  come  like  an  angel  of  light  and  carried 
her  away  from  the  sorrow  and  suffering  of  Saemal 
to  a life  of  care-free,  happy  childhood  in  Okchun. 

The  welcome  accorded  the  little  stranger  in  the 
home  of  Mr.  Chun  was  typical  of  her  sojourn  in  the 
wholesome  purity  of  the  new  life  upon  which  she  was 
entering.  Uncle  Tochil  and  Kumokie  had  walked 
(114) 


A Christian  Home 


115 


many  weary  miles  on  that  long  journey  from  the 
village  by  the  sea  to  the  little  hamlet  nestling  among 
the  foothills  of  the  north  mountains.  Footsore,  worn, 
and  weary,  for  many  days  the  travelers  had  trudged 
along  the  highways.  This  is  the  mode  of  locomo- 
tion best  known  in  this  land  even  to-day.  Only  the 
favored  of  fortune  can  afford  an  aristocratic  donkey, 
or  even  the  humble  cow,  for  a mount.  Mr.  Chun  was 
in  moderate  circumstances,  as  he  had  told  old  man 
Ye.  He  was  not  a rich  man,  and  the  best  that  he 
could  do  for  the  little  girl  by  his  side  was  to  take  the 
trip  as  slowly  as  possible,  with  frequent  stops  at  the 
wayside  inns.  To  one  who  had  hitherto  known  so 
little  of  outdoor  life  or  active  physical  exercise,  how- 
ever, it  was  a difficult  journey.  The  second  day  the 
little  feet  were  cruelly  blistered,  and  after  that 
each  step  was  torture.  But  as  Kumokie  limped  along 
by  her  uncle’s  side  not  one  word  of  complaint  did 
she  utter;  she  only  set  her  lips  more  firmly  and  de- 
termined to  bear  it  all  unflinchingly.  It  was  very 
hard  at  times  to  keep  her  thoughts  on  the  words  he 
was  saying.  Her  uncle  was  trying  to  make  her  feel 
that  she  was  really  going  home  and  was  telling  her 
of  those  whom  she  would  find  there,  of  gay  little 
Elizabeth  and  Baby  Yohn,  of  the  big-hearted  little 
mother  who  would  also  welcome  this  new  daughter 
into  the  blessed  family  circle.  This  second  day’s 
journey  had  been  very  hard,  much  more  difficult 
than  the  first,  because  of  the  poor  blistered  feet, 
and  the  two  had  made  very  poor  headway.  The 
inn  which  Mr.  Chun  had  hoped  to  make  for  the 
night  was  yet  ten  li  away,  and  between  them  lay  a 
long  and  rocky  pass.  The  short  November  day  was 


116  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

dying  in  a shroud  of  gray  clouds  which  promised 
snow  before  many  hours.  The  man,  so  strong  him- 
self and  used  to  long  trips  afoot,  had  not  realized 
what  suffering  this  day  had  meant  to  his  tender 
little  companion.  Now  as  his  eyes  searched  the  lower- 
ing sky  and  he  realized  that  they  were  yet  a distance 
from  their  stopping  place,  he  unconsciously  quickened 
his  pace  as  he  remarked:  “ We  must  be  getting  along 
faster.  Night  is  catching  us  before  we  can  reach  our 
resting  place,  which  is  on  the  other  side  of  yonder 
pass.” 

They  were  going  along  at  a good  steady  gait,  and 
the  man  was  talking  in  his  quiet,  soothing  voice, 
when  a smothered  sob  brought  him  to  a sudden  halt. 

“ My  child!  Are  you  crying?”  He  peered  into  the 
pale,  convulsed  face  of  the  little  girl  and  then  knelt 
beside  her  in  the  road.  “Why,  what  in  the  world?” 

The  surprised  man  had  congratulated  himself 
that  they  were  getting  to  be  good  friends  and  that 
all  was  well.  But  what  could  this  mean?  The 
child  did  not  answer.  She  was  now  so  ashamed  of 
her  weakness  and  of  the  fact  that  she  was  not 
measuring  up  to  this  splendid  man’s  expectations 
that  she  could  only  hide  her  face  in  her  arms  and  sob 
the  louder. 

“Can’t  you  tell  your  uncle  what  is  the  matter,  my 
dear?  Think  of  me  as  your  father,  for  such  I am  now, 
and  tell  me  what  is  troubling  you.”  As  he  tenderly 
laid  his  hand  on  the  bent  head  he  felt  that  the  slender 
frame  was  all  atremble.  It  seemed  that  the  child 
could  scarcely  stand. 

Leaning  against  the  man  who  knelt  beside  her, 


A Christian  Home 


117 


the  almost  fainting  girl  whispered:  "0  Uncle,  its 
my  feet.  They  do  hurt  so  bad,  and  I’m  so  ashamed.” 
“Well,  poor  baby,  what  a thoughtless  creature  I 
am!  Those  little  feet  are  not  used  to  such  trips. 
Here,  let  me  see  the  feet.” 

They  sat  down  by  the  wayside  and  by  the  fast- 
fading light  he  removed  the  sandals  and  stockings 
and  saw  the  cruel  blisters  on  the  tender,  pink  flesh. 
Uncle  Tochil  felt  that  he  had  been  very  inconsiderate 
when  he  had  dreamed  that  he  was  very  thoughtful 
and  kind.  It  was  only  that  he  had  overestimated 
the  strength  and  endurance  of  the  frail  little  thing 
that  he  had  taken  under  his  care.  For  a moment 
he  held  the  trembling  little  girl  closer  to  him. 

“I  will  be  more  careful  after  this.  But  now  we 
must  get  to  the  inn  as  soon  as  possible.” 

Suiting  his  action  to  these  words,  he  took  the 
bundle  from  his  back,  a pitiful  little  bundle  which 
held  all  the  earthly  possessions  of  Kumokie.  None  of 
the  beautiful  things  in  her  inlaid  chest  were  here — no, 
indeed.  Grandfather  Ye  saw  to  it  that  nothing  of 
value  was  taken  away.  But  tucked  in  the  bundle 
with  loving  care  was  a boy’s  soft  silken  vest,  much 
worn  and  somewhat  shabby,  but  eloquent  of  its  lost 
master. 

Mr.  Chun  stood  looking  at  this  burden,  not  a very 
heavy  burden,  but  rather  bulky,  and  pondered  the 
situation.  Then  with  a good-natured  laugh  he  said: 
“Well,  Kumokie,  you  and  your  bundle  will  have  to 
take  an  ohuju  [a  ride  on  another’s  back]  together. 
Come  along  and  let  us  see  how  heavy  you  are.” 

“O  no,  Uncle.  I’m  so  ashamed.  You,  too,  are 
tired,  and  how  can  you  carry  me?” 


118 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


“Tired?  0 no;  I’m  not  in  the  least  tired,  and  I am 
very  sure  that  you  are  not  as  heavy  as  that  Elizabeth 
of  mine.  I carry  her  often  this  way,  and  she  is  larger 
than  you,  even  if  you  are  nine  years  old.” 

The  light-hearted  banter  of  his  voice  at  last  per- 
suaded the  weary  child,  for  she  was  now  so  weary 
that  she  felt  that  she  could  not  take  another  step 
on  those  poor  blistered  feet.  She  timidly  put  her 
hands  about  his  throat  and  snugged  up  to  his  back 
as  she  had  done  so  many  times  as  a baby;  she  also 
had  carried  many  of  the  neighborhood  babies  in 
this  most  approved  style.  After  all,  this  is  by  far  the 
easiest  way  to  carry  a burden.  Why  is  it  that  in  the 
West  people  still  insist  on  carrying  children  in  their 
arms  when  in  the  East  they  have  found  a way  so 
much  easier?  As  she  thus  fitted  up  to  his  back  in 
this  cozy  fashion  of  babyhood,  Uncle  Tochil  lifted 
her  off  the  ground  and  then  commenced  to  wind 
about  her  body  and  his  own  a long  scarf  that  he  had 
taken  from  the  bundle. 

“Hum;  heavy?  O yes,  about  as  heavy  as  a nice 
spring  chicken.  Why,  child,  you  are  as  light  as  a 
feather!  We  will  have  to  see  about  that  when  we 
get  you  up  to  the  good  mountain  air,  where  there  is 
plenty  of  wholesome  food  and  the  right  kind  of  ex- 
ercise for  children.  Heavy?  I wish  you  were  heavier 
and  stronger,  little  one.  But  that  can  all  be  cured 
in  time.  If  you  could  see  how  much  your  uncle  can 
carry  and  what  he  has  carried  when  necessary,  you 
would  not  worry.  So  just  ride  easy  now.  Put  your 
arms  tight  about  my  neck  and  see  how  fast  we  can 

g°” 

Then,  taking  the  bundle  in  his  arms,  he  hastened 


A Christian  Home 


119 


along  to  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  inn.  It  is  always 
safest  in  those  wild  regions  infested  by  robbers  and 
wild  animals  not  to  be  long  after  dark  in  finding  such 
protection. 

After  many  days  the  pilgrims  neared  the  foothills 
of  the  north  mountains.  When  Kumokie  had  been 
too  tired  or  footsore  to  walk  she  had  been  carried, 
and  just  how  much  this  was  she  never  knew;  but 
each  mile  of  the  way  had  but  added  to  her  debt  of 
gratitude  and  love  to  this  kind,  gentle  man.  She 
realized  that  she  was  to  have  at  last  the  care  and 
protection  of  the  father  love  which  she  so  much 
needed.  The  two  were  the  best  of  friends  and  com- 
panions now,  and  Mr.  Chun  rejoiced  as  he  saw  the 
face  which  had  been  so  unchildlike  in  its  sorrow  and 
gravity  take  on  a shade  of  intense  interest  as  he 
talked  of  the  home  to  which  they  were  going  or  heard 
the  ripple  of  sweet  laughter  drawn  out  in  response  to 
his  tale  of  some  of  Elizabeth’s  gay  pranks. 

As  they  drew  nearer  to  this  much-talked-of 
home  the  child  began  to  feel  that  she  was  an  out- 
sider, an  interloper,  that  she  had  no  right  in  this 
bright  sphere.  She  did  not  mention  her  fears  to  kind, 
fatherly  ^Uncle  Tochil.  The  wonder  as  to  what 
Elizabeth  would  think  about  the  stranger  sharing 
her  home  held  her  lips  sealed  on  this  subject.  Why 
should  she  not  hate  anyone  who  thus  came  uninvited 
and  without  warning  to  share  the  blessings  which 
had  before  been  hers  alone?  Then  there  was  Aunt 
Maria.  Uncle  Tochil  said  that  she  was  beautiful 
and  good,  that  she  had  the  kindest  heart  in  the  world, 
and  that  she  would  welcome  this  little  stranger. 
By  the  proud  light  in  his  eyes  as  he  talked  of  this 


120  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

woman  anyone  could  see  that  he  thought  all  this  of 
her;  he  loved  her  so  much  that  he  felt  sure  that 
she  would  do  always  the  right  and  beautiful  thing. 
Kumokie  doubted  this,  but  she  could  not  openly  ex- 
press these  doubts.  Had  she  not  heard  her  grand- 
mother say  hundreds  of  times  that  children  were  a 
great  burden?  There  was  sewing,  washing,  and  many 
things  to  do  for  a child.  Had  not  Grandfather  Ye 
said  times  without  number  that  no  one  wanted  a girl 
to  bother  with?  Then  why  should  Mrs.  Chun, 
however  lovely  and  kind  she  might  be,  care  to  have 
this  extra  burden  thrust  upon  her?  Of  course, 
thought  Kumokie,  if  her  husband  commanded  her 
to  do  so,  she  would  have  nothing  else  to  do.  But 
to  one  of  her  sensitive  nature  it  meant  a great  deal 
of  suffering  to  be  in  a place  where  she  knew  she  was 
not  wanted.  Whenever  had  she  known  anything 
else?  Except  her  mother,  no  one  in  all  this  world 
had  ever  loved  her.  She  had  always  been  made 
to  feel  in  her  grandfather’s  house  that  they  merely 
endured  her  because  they  couldn’t  help  it.  Why 
should  she  look  for  something  different  in  her  uncle’s 
home  in  Okchun?  In  truth,  she  did  not  look  for 
anything  better.  By  this  time  she  had  grown  to 
have  perfect  confidence  in  her  uncle  and  knew 
that  he  would  do  what  he  could  to  make  her  life 
happy;  that  since  he  was  head  of  the  house  the 
others  would  not  be  unkind  to  her.  But  the  fact 
that  she  was  a little,  unloved  stranger  whom  no  one 
could  want  was  so  deeply  carved  into  her  heart  that 
it  would  take  many  months  for  her  to  realize  that 
difference  in  the  ideals  which  prevailed  in  this  place 
and  in  Saemal’s  big  thatched  house. 


A Christian  Home 


121 


The  last  hill  had  been  climbed.  The  man  and 
child  made  their  way  through  the  fast-drifting  snow 
toward  the  sleepy  little  cottages  that  clustered  in 
friendly  fashion  at  the  foot  of  the  big,  gray  mountain. 

“We  are  just  in  time  to  escape  the  big  snow  of  the 
winter.  How  glad  I am  that  we  will  not  have  to 
make  our  way  through  the  new-made  drifts  to-mor- 
row. Yonder  house,  baby,  there  by  the  big  old  nootie 
tree,  that  is  your  home.” 

Expectation,  fear,  and  dread  of  the  new  relations 
she  must  soon  see  were  filling  her  heart  with  appre- 
hension, and  the  tears  so  dimmed  her  eyes  that  she 
could  but  see  the  outlines  of  the  house  indicated. 
The  skeletonlike  limbs  of  the  big  tree  skipped  and 
danced  before  her  gaze,  and  she  failed  to  realize 
that  the  place  they  now  approached  was  neat  and 
clean.  From  the  trimness  of  the  spick-and-span 
thatch  of  the  roof  to  the  garden,  every  outward 
sign  of  thrift  and  comfort  was  manifest.  Though 
it  was  certainly  not  the  house  of  a man  of  wealth, 
it  was  just  as  evident  that  the  people  who  lived  here 
were  not  the  ordinary,  ignorant  mountaineers  of 
many  of  the  other  near-by  houses.  As  the  two 
strange  companions  passed  through  the  narrow, 
winding  alleys  of  the  village  several  neighbors  met 
them.  Curiosity  was  evident  as  they  spoke  to  Mr. 
Chun  and  then  stopped  to  watch  them  as  they 
went  on  their  way.  There  was  a bright  smile  and  a 
kind  word  of  greeting  to  each,  but  he  was  too  eager 
now  to  reach  the  end  of  this  journey,  the  neat  little 
nest  under  the  nootie,  to  indulge  in  even  a friendly 
chat  with  his  new  friends.  His  steps  unconsciously 
hastened  as  they  drew  nearer  the  heavy  outer  gate  of 


122  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

the  courtyard,  or  madang,  which  is  the  center  of 
life  and  activity  in  a Korean  home. 

The  big  gate  swung  back  with  a loud  creak  of 
welcome  and  announced  an  arrival  to  the  inmates 
of  the  inner  portals.  For  many  long  years  Kumokie 
cherished  the  memory  of  the  scene  then  enacted  with 
the  neat  Chun  madang  for  a stage  setting:  the 
frightened  child,  trembling  with  apprehension  and 
dread  of  meeting  the  new  relatives,  a forlorn,  queer 
little  figure  in  her  ill-fitting,  scant  clothing,  shivering 
pitifully  in  the  cold  November  wind  at  the  door  of  a 
stranger.  The  door  opened,  and  a woman  stepped 
out  on  the  veranda,  her  beautiful  Madonna  eyes  full 
of  tender  wonder  as  they  fell  on  the  pathetic  child 
before  her.  She  saw  the  timid  anxiety  in  the  sad 
face  of  the  little  stranger.  As  she  gazed  into  the  up- 
turned face  she  saw  that  here  was  one  who  needed 
her  love  and  care,  here  was  one  who  called  forth  all 
the  instinct  of  the  mother  toward  helpless  little 
ones.  Before  she  knew  who  this  was  or  whence  she 
came,  the  heart  of  this  great  woman  went  out  to  the 
forlorn  waif  at  her  door,  and  she  stepped  off  the  ve- 
randa and  knelt  by  the  side  of  Kumokie. 

“ Maria,  I’ve  brought  you  this  little  girl.  Her 
mother  is  dead,  and  she  needs  a mother’s  love  and 
care.” 

There  was  nothing  strange  to  her  in  her  husband’s 
announcement  that  he  had  brought  a homeless  waif 
to  share  their  home.  To  comfort  the  comfortless 
and  to  mother  the  motherless  was  with  her  a special 
gift,  and  the  man  brushed  a tear  from  his  face,  a 
tear  of  which  he  was  not  ashamed,  as  he  watched  the 
pretty  scene  before  him — this  woman  whom  he 


A Christian  Home 


123 


adored  down  in  the  snow  on  her  knees  by  the  orphan, 
chafing  her  numbed  hands  and  murmuring  words  of 
love  and  welcome.  A whole  flock  of  children  came 
tumbling  out  of  the  open  door  and  by  their  shrill- 
voiced welcome  demanded  instant  attention.  This 
onslaught  was  led  by  a ruddy  little  girl  in  a bright 
red  jacket  who  with  loud,  insistent  cries  claimed  him 
as  “father.”  After  a vigorous  greeting,  he  was 
allowed  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  crowd  about  him. 

Kumokie  was  taken  by  surprise,  utterly  astonished 
by  this  crowd  of  lovely,  happy  children.  Where  did 
they  all  come  from?  Uncle  had  only  mentioned  two, 
Elizabeth  and  Yohn.  Who,  then,  were  all  these? 
She  almost  forgot  to  be  afraid,  she  was  so  amazed. 

Mrs.  Chun  saw  her  questioning  look  and  laughed 
as  she  said:  “O  no;  these  are  not  all  ours,  all  the  time! 
But  these  fifteen  girls  are  mine  during  the  daytime, 
for  I teach  them.  This  is  my  school.” 

A school,  a school  for  girls,  and  with  a woman 
teacher!  Would  wonders  never  cease?  But  before 
her  mind  could  quite  take  in  just  what  this  might 
mean  for  her  in  the  future  her  uncle  was  saying  to 
Maria: 

“This  I kept  for  a surprise  for  the  little  girl.  Her 
grandmother  said  that  she  was  wild  to  study  and 
become  like  some  great  lady  she  knows  about  who 
can  read  the  classics.  I can  see  that  she  is  an  un- 
usually bright  child,  and  with  a fair  chance  in  this 
world  she  may  make  a name  for  herself  yet.”  Then 
with  a ringing,  happy  laugh  as  he  turned  to  Kumokie : 
“So,  little  daughter,  this  is  your  new  teacher  and 
mother.  This  little  rascal” — drawing  closer  the 
child  he  held  by  the  hand — “this  is  Elizabeth.  And 


124  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

for  you,  Elizabeth,  I have  brought  a new  sister; 
you  are  going  to  love  each  other  very  dearly,  I 
know.” 

The  outsider  looked  at  the  face  of  the  child  before 
her  who  was  holding  very  tightly  and  shyly  to  her 
father’s  hand.  She  felt  that  it  would  be  a great  joy 
to  love  Elizabeth  and  to  be  loved  by  her,  but  she 
could  not  have  uttered  a word  to  have  saved  her 
life.  She  could  only  look  embarrassed  and  take  a 
firmer  hold  about  the  neck  of  the  lady  who  still 
knelt  beside  her.  She  clung  to  Maria  with  an  ever- 
tightening  hold.  Now  that  she  felt  again  the  clinging 
tenderness  of  mother  arms  about  her,  there  came  an 
overwhelming  realization  of  how  lonely  she  had  been 
since  that  dear  form  was  put  to  rest  beneath  the 
pines.  The  floodgates  were  opened,  and  she  gave 
way  to  passionate  weeping,  clinging  all  the  more 
closely  to  Mother  Chun.  Maria’s  heart  had  already 
gone  out  in  longing  tenderness  and  compassion 
toward  the  orphan;  but  this  outburst  of  childish 
grief  and  those  clinging  little  hands  opened  the  way 
into  the  inner  recesses  of  her  heart  and  gained  for 
Kumokie  more  quickly  and  more  surely  than  any 
other  means  would  have  done  her  full  protection 
and  loyalty.  This  lost,  motherless  lamb  was  hers 
now  to  nourish,  to  teach,  to  cherish,  and  to  love 
always. 

“Come  in  quick,  children,  and  let  us  warm  up 
the  travelers  and  get  them  something  to  eat!” 
Gently  she  disengaged  the  grip  of  the  little  hands 
about  her  neck,  and  into  the  house  they  went  to 
find  cozy  comfort  awaiting  them. 


A Christian  Home 


125 


Love  and  happiness  of  a Christian  home  for  the 
first  time  welcomed  Kumokie.  Thus  commenced 
her  new  life,  a life  wonderfully  rich  in  blessings 
never  before  dreamed  of,  for  Jesus  was  the  head 
of  that  house.  He  had  found  an  abiding  place  there 
in  the  hearts  of  his  followers. 


CHAPTER  XII 

School  Days 

THE  wonderful  new  life  in  the  home  of  her  uncle 
was  a revelation  to  Kumokie  of  what  a child’s 
life  may  be  and  of  rich  blessings  the  like  of  which 
she  had  never  dreamed.  The  days  passed  all  too 
quickly,  each  freighted  with  some  new  joy.  The 
weeks  lengthened  into  months,  all  crowned  with  love 
and  happiness.  The  months  all  too  quickly  drew 
themselves  into  beautiful  years  filled  with  memories 
dear  to  childhood.  Days,  weeks,  and  years  alike 
seemed  much  too  short  to  hold  the  pleasures  and 
blessings  so  abundant  in  the  life  of  the  little  girl 
whose  earlier  experience  had  been  so  starved.  Quiet 
Kumokie,  sweet  and  gentle,  had  found  the  best  of 
friends  in  gay,  happy  Elizabeth,  and  they  shared 
alike  their  household  tasks  and  pleasures. 

The  happiest  hours  of  all  to  Kumokie,  however, 
were  those  spent  in  the  schoolroom.  When  she  found 
that  she,  too,  was  to  be  allowed  to  study,  to  learn 
the  real  characters  in  books  such  as  Noch  Kyung 
used  to  read,  her  joy  knew  no  bounds.  It  seemed  too 
good  to  be  true  that  now  at  last  she  was  really  to 
have  the  opportunity  to  fit  herself  to  be  his  compan- 
ion. In  spite  of  her  grandfather’s  sneers,  she  cherished 
the  belief  that  she  was  his  wife,  as  he  had  said,  and 
that  he  would  come  for  her  some  day.  Her  secret  am- 
bition was  so  to  improve  herself  that  when  he  came  he 
would  not  be  ashamed  of  her.  She  would  become 
a bright,  useful  woman  like  Maria,  to  whom  her 
husband  was  not  ashamed  to  pay  honor — yes,  and 
(126) 


School  Days 


127 


like  Noch  Kyung’s  mother,  of  whom  he  was  so 
proud.  The  eagerness  of  the  child  over  her  books 
and  the  rapid  progress  she  made  was  a constant 
source  of  wonder  to  her  relatives.  After  the  first 
year  in  school  she  easily  passed  the  other  children  in 
their  studies.  Her  mind  was  always  craving  more 
knowledge,  yet  never  for  a moment  did  she  shun  or 
neglect  the  common  household  tasks.  There  was  no 
servant  in  this  humble  home,  but  many  willing  hands 
made  light  work,  and  most  eager  to  help  was  the 
homeless  orphan  who  owed  so  much  to  these  unself- 
ish friends. 

The  tiny  church  building,  erected  by  the  village 
people  through  much  self-sacrifice  and  endurance; 
the  patient  efforts  of  the  little  group  of  believers  to 
win  their  friends  and  neighbors;  their  struggle 
against  opposition  and  persecution;  the  final  victory 
in  Okchun — the  story  of  these  struggles  is  like  that 
of  hundreds  of  other  little  groups  scattered  over 
these  mountains  and  valleys.  Maria,  wife  of  Uncle 
Tochil,  had  been  the  first  believer  in  Okchun,  and 
he  never  tired  of  telling  how  she  had  won  him  to 
Christ  and  had  finally  overcome  the  opposition  of  the 
village.  He  was  now  class  leader,  Sunday  school 
superintendent,  and  brother  to  all  the  near-by  coun- 
tryside, while  his  wife  taught  the  little  school  for 
girls  (the  first  the  people  had  ever  seen),  cared  for  her 
family  and  home,  and  still  had  time  always  to  go  to 
those  who  were  sad  or  in  need. 

Under  the  sheltering  love  of  these  good  people  five 
years  soon  rolled  by.  During  this  time  Kumokie  had 
no  news  from  the  far-away  city,  no  word  from  the  old 
people  in  Saemal.  During  this  time  there  were  hours, 


128  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

too,  of  care-free  frolic  under  the  old  nootie  tree  with 
Elizabeth  and  jolly  little  Yohn,  when  Kumokie  al- 
most forgot  the  blighted  years  of  her  childhood  and 
the  sad  burden  of  being  a deserted  wife. 

One  night  soon  after  her  fourteenth  birthday, 
Pastor  No  preached  at  the  village  church  and,  as 
was  his  custom,  came  home  with  the  class  leader  to 
spend  the  night.  The  men  were  seated  in  the  outside 
reception  room,  the  sarang,  and,  being  summer  time, 
the  windows  were  opened  into  the  inner  court.  Ku- 
mokie sat  alone  on  the  veranda,  for  the  other  of  the 
family  were  probably  lingering  at  some  neighbor’s 
house  and  were  not  yet  home.  As  she  sat  thus  her 
thoughts  drifted  idly  over  the  past  years,  the  bless- 
ings they  had  brought  to  her,  and  her  heart  over- 
flowed with  gratitude  and  love  to  her  benefactors, 
while  the  drone  of  deep  voices  came  from  the  room 
beyond.  Then  suddenly  she  was  startled  from  her 
dreams  and  her  attention  called  to  the  converstaion 
in  the  sarang  by  hearing  her  uncle  use  her  name. 

“Kumokie  is  getting  to  be  quite  a big  girl  now, 
and  a brilliant  student,  too.  She  is  the  brightest  star 
in  our  little  school.” 

“Yes,”  answered  the  old  preacher;  “one  can  easily 
see  that  she  is  an  unusual  girl,  spiritual-minded, 
too.  I feel  that  she  has  a great  future  ahead  of  her. 
Brother,  yours  is  a great  responsibility.  I asked  you 
about  her  because  I wanted  to  tell  you  of  her 
husband.  ” 

The  listening  girl  never  thought  of  the  dishonor  of 
eavesdropping.  Her  hungry  heart  was  craving  even 
the  sound  of  the  beloved  name.  So  unthinkingly  she 
crept  close  under  the  little  window  and  listened  to 


School  Days 


129 


the  low  voices  within.  What  was  she  about  to  hear? 
Her  heart  pounded  until  she  feared  they  might  hear 
it,  and  she  clasped  her  hands  over  her  bosom  to  still 
the  throb  of  it  while  she  eagerly  listened. 

“ I did  as  you  asked  me,  and  the  last  time  I visited 
the  city  I hunted  up  Kim  Noch  Kyung.  A nice  gen- 
tlemanly fellow  he  is,  too — a rice  merchant,  doing 
very  well  in  his  business.  He  is  married  again.  That 
was  to  have  been  expected,  I suppose.  What  noise 
was  that?”  as  a queer  moanlike  sound  came  through 
the  window. 

“Probably  the  dog,”  said  Mr.  Chun;  “he  sleeps 
in  the  court.  So  Kim  is  married?  What  kind  of  a 
woman  is  she?” 

“You  can  judge  her  part  there  by  the  fact  that 
she  is  still  called  Cusagie  (What-you-may-call-her). 
From  what  I saw  and  heard,  I judge  that  when  he 
left  old  man  Ye’s  house  and  set  out  to  earn  a living 
for  himself  Kim  found  it  necessary  to  have  some  one 
to  cook,  sew,  and  work  for  him.  She  does  this  as 
well  as  anyone;  stupid,  ugly,  and  most  nondescript, 
but  she  is  not  considered  a first  wife.  A small  wife, 
of  course,  has  no  position  or  rank,  and  since  all  knew 
that  a wife  had  been  chosen  for  him  by  his  parents 
he  could  not  take  the  daughter  of  any  man  of  position 
or  family  standing.” 

“That  is  true,”  answered  Mr.  Chun.  “If  my 
poor  little  sad-hearted  Kumokie  were  seeking  re- 
venge, she  would  have  it  in  this;  although  she  is 
thrown  aside  and  deserted,  she  has  been  chosen  by 
his  parents.  Empty  honor  though  it  be,  by  law  she 
is  a first  wife.” 

The  girl  who  crouched  without  had  a thousand 
9 


130  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

questions  trembling  on  her  lips;  but  she  knew  that 
she  could  not  even  speak  his  name,  much  less  ask 
the  questions  burning  in  her  heart,  so  she  crept  still 
closer  to  the  men  and  listened  eagerly  as  the  preacher 
continued. 

“That  is  the  important  point,  brother.  Kumokie 
is  now  getting  to  be  an  attractive  young  woman. 
She  is  like  your  own  child,  and  it  is  your  duty  to  see 
that  she  has  proper  divorce  papers.  She  is  not  a wife 
according  to  our  way  of  looking  at  things;  she  has 
never  been.  That  arrangement  was  nothing  more 
than  a betrothal.  Nevertheless,  according  to  our  old 
queer  customs,  she  is  not  yet  divorced,  for  he  did  not 
give  her  back  her  marriage  contract  papers.  Now, 
under  the  Japanese  law  a woman  cannot  get  a di- 
vorce unless  the  man  consent,  no  matter  what  her 
ground  for  action.  ” 

“There  is  no  hurry;  plenty  of  time  yet.  He  was 
glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  his  child  wife.  I expect  no 
trouble  there.  Then,  too,  it  will  be  a long  time  before 
I expect  her  to  marry.  Maria  and  I have  been  saving 
money  to  send  our  two  girls  to  the  school  in  the  pine 
capital.  That  means  at  least  four  years  of  school. 
Plenty  of  time  yet.  ” How  bitterly  he  regretted  that 
decision  in  after  years! 

The  eavesdropper  outside  with  bated  breath 
pressed  her  clenched  hands  closer  over  her  heart  and 
looked  wildly  about.  She  must  be  alone  awhile. 
She  felt  that  just  now  she  could  not  face  the  search- 
ing, loving  eyes  of  Maria.  Without  a candle  she 
tripped  away  to  her  little  room  and  pretended  to  be 
asleep  when  Elizabeth  came  in,  but  far  into  the  night 


School  Days  131 

she  lay  with  wild  startled  eyes  searching  the  dark- 
ness. 

“What  does  it  all  mean?”  Then  slowly,  carefully 
she  recalled  word  for  word  the  stolen  conversation 
and  lingered  over  its  strangeness.  “But  he  first  said 
that  I was  not  a wife,  and  then  at  last  he  said:  ‘Al- 
though she  is  deserted,  she  has  always  the  honor  of  a 
first  wife  until  divorced.’  O,  I can’t  understand!” 

The  timid,  self-conscious  maiden  dared  not  go  to 
even  those  who  loved  her  and  ask  about  these  per- 
plexing problems  after  a long  time  of  anxious 
thought  she  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  one 
thing  she  did  not  want  was  that  which  they  called  a 
“divorce.”  As  long  as  things  were  as  they  were 
now,  there  was  some  kind  of  a legal  bond  uniting 
them.  Her  mind  was  a maze  of  tangled  questions; 
but  with  a firm  determination  to  cling  to  this  frail 
link  as  long  as  possible,  to  pray  and  hope  that  all 
would  come  right,  to  study  hard  and  make  him 
proud  to  claim  her  when  the  hour  should  come,  she 
at  last  fell  asleep. 

True  to  their  decision,  the  class  leader  and  Maria 
had  made  every  possible  sacrifice  and  with  high  hopes 
and  expectations  for  the  future  prepared  to  send  their 
two  girls  to  the  school  in  the  time-honored  pine  capi- 
tal, Songdo. 

We  will  pass  over  those  days  of  eager  preparation. 
Who  among  us  does  not  remember  such  times  of 
joyous  anticipation  of  happy  days  to  come?  Then, 
too,  nervous  dread  of  the  new  teachers,  new  com- 
panions, new  duties,  and  new  surroundings  came  to 
the  young  students  at  times.  When  the  morning  of 
their  departure  finally  dawned,  both  girls  were  so 


132  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

filled  with  dread  of  the  unknown  and  untried  that 
both  would  most  gladly  have  unpacked  the  fresh, 
neat  clothes  they  had  helped  stitch  so  carefully  and 
with  so  much  hope. 

Uncle  Tochil  had  borrowed  a neighbor’s  strong 
bullock  to  carry  their  loads ; and  he  strapped  and  tied 
the  boxes  and  bundles  in  place  with  great  precision, 
for  they  must  balance  each  other  exactly  or  there 
would  probably  be  a great  spill  of  baggage  on  some 
steep  mountain  pass.  While  he  busied  himself,  the 
two  girls  clung  to  Maria  and  declared  with  tears  that 
they  would  not  leave  her  at  all. 

“Go  along,  you  foolish  dears,”  and  she  lovingly 
and  very  tenderly  shook  the  sobbing  girls.  “I  do 
not  want  you  to  forget  me  or  your  old  homestead. 
We  should  be  very  sorry  if  you  should  do  that,  but 
down  in  the  valley  yonder  are  new  friends  and  happy 
days  awaiting  you.  I have  given  my  bookworms  all 
I can  give  them ; now  you  must  go  to  others  who  can 
teach  you  other  things  that  you  must  learn.  But 
always  remember  your  home  and  those  who  love  you 
here.  Then,  when  vacation  comes,  you  will  return 
in  triumph  and  tell  us  the  wonderful  things  you  have 
learned.  Come  here,  Yohn;  bid  the  students  a 
happy  journey.  ” 

So  with  words  of  comfort  Maria  sent  them  on  their 
way,  but  her  eyes  were  dim  as  she  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  hill  to  watch  the  little  procession  trailing  down 
the  narrow  road. 

Turning  to  the  sturdy  boy  by  her  side  she  said: 
“You,  too,  little  man,  will  be  leaving  us  before  many 
years  to  seek  for  knowledge.  ” 

“No,  never,  mother.  I shall  not  leave  you  even  to 


School  Days 


133 


study;  for  when  I know  all  the  characters  you  can 
read,  I shall  know  all  my  head  can  hold.” 

Thus  with  tears  and  laughter,  the  two  returned  to 
the  home  while  the  others  turned  their  faces  to  the 
new  world. 

The  two  new  girls  had  thought  that  they  would 
feel  very  lonely  and  sad  at  first  in  the  big  school ; but 
what  was  their  surprise  to  find  that  they  did  not 
seem  like  strangers  at  all  and  that  the  other  girls  soon 
were  like  old  friends!  There  were  few  days  of  home- 
sickness and  loneliness,  there  were  so  many  new  in- 
teresting things  to  see,  and  the  “big  sister”  under 
whose  special  care  they  were  placed  was  most  eager 
to  show  them  all  the  wonders  of  the  place  and  to 
initiate  them  into  the  mysteries  of  the  large  buildings. 
But  why  linger  over  the  first  days  at  school  or  other 
school  days?  Are  they  not  all  much  alike?  These 
two  girls  from  the  distant  mountain  village  had  been 
well  coached  by  the  faithful  Maria.  They  knew 
many  things  about  life  in  a mission  school,  and  very 
quickly  the  feeling  of  strangeness  gave  way  before 
the  warmth  of  welcome  and  the  kindness  of  the  other 
girls.  So  with  study,  work,  and  play  the  passing 
years  went  swiftly  by. 

The  times  of  vacation  were  looked  to  with  great 
joy  not  only  by  the  girls  but  also  by  the  folk  at 
home.  Such  times  of  rejoicing  as  they  had  at  these 
family  reunions!  Then  there  was  high  carnival  in 
Okchun  village,  and  all  celebrated  the  glad  return. 
Three  summers  had  thus  seen  the  girls  come  and  go, 
each  advent  marked  by  some  development  of  char- 
acter that  brought  an  added  pride  to  those  who  loved 
them.  Realizing  that  their  education  was  to  be  a 


134 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

severe  financial  strain  on  the  entire  household, 
Kumokie  and  Elizabeth  had  made  the  joyful  dis- 
covery of  a way  to  relieve  Uncle  Tochil  of  the  greatest 
part  of  this  burden.  They  had  found  that  it  was 
possible  to  work  their  way  through  by  taking  a year 
longer  in  the  “Self-Help  Department.  ” Many  such 
as  they  had  found  helpful,  congenial  work,  beautiful 
work  with  silk  and  wool  and  flowers,  where,  under  the 
wise  eye  of  a loving  teacher,  they  learned  to  do  many 
wonderful  things,  and  by  so  doing  could  earn  their 
own  board  and  save  the  burden  at  home.  O,  that 
was  the  most  wonderful  of  discoveries,  and  it  gave 
them  both  great  joy  to  know  that  they  could  help  in- 
stead of  being  a burden.  It  was  Elizabeth’s  quick 
fingers  that  first  caught  a new  stitch,  her  eyes  which 
saw  through  the  most  elaborate  designs;  but  it  was 
Kumokie  who  could  explain  to  Maria  some  difficult 
passage  in  the  classics  or  solve  the  knotty  problem  in 
mathematics. 

Mr.  Chun  had  just  returned  from  his  fall  visit  to 
the  city.  The  two  girls  were  safely  settled  for  the 
winter  work,  and  as  he  talked  of  the  trip  and  the 
school  Maria  sat  near  by  intent  on  the  sewing 
in  her  hands  and  listening  to  his  story. 

“They  say,  and  of  course  we  already  know,  that 
Kumokie  is  a very  unusual  girl.  She  is  beautiful  as 
well  as  good  and  clever,  an  unusual  combination.  ” 

“Yes,  she  is  unusual.  We  shall  be  very  proud  of 
her  some  day.  ” 

“We  are  proud  of  her  now,  you  know  we  are,  and 
how  thankful  that  you  rescued  her  from  that  awful 
life  in  Saemal.” 

While  they  sat  thus  they  discussed  the  future  of 


School  Days 


135 


the  two  girls  who  were  so  dear  to  them.  The  result 
of  this  conference  was  that  before  many  days  a letter 
was  sent  to  Kim  Noch  Kyung  concerning  Kumokie, 
whom  he  had  once  called  his  wife. 

To  Kim  Noch  Kyung,  Greetings:  It  may  be  that  during  the 
eight  years  since  you  left  Saemal  you  have  forgotten 
the  child  wife,  Kumokie.  Certainly  you  have  taken  no  inter- 
est or  responsibility  in  her  fate,  and  I take  it  for  granted  that 
since  you  are  married  again  you  will  be  generous  enough  to 
approve  the  divorce  papers  which  I wish  to  procure  for  her. 

You  probably  wonder  who  or  what  I am  and  why  I should 
be  so  much  interested  in  her.  I am  her  uncle,  the  only  brother 
of  her  mother.  When  her  mother  died,  I took  the  child  to  my 
home,  and  she  has  been  the  same  to  me  as  my  own  daughter. 
I am  a Christian,  and  our  ideas  about  the  sanctity  of  marriage 
are  very  strict,  and  while  she  was  no  real  wife,  we  recognize 
the  law  in  such  cases  and  desire  to  have  a divorce.  If  she  had 
remained  with  her  grandmother,  she  would  have  been  mar- 
ried again  long  ago.  She  has  no  such  scruples  about  these 
fine  moral  points.  May  I hope  to  meet  you  before  my  lawyer 
at  the  local  office  of  your  city  at  10  o’clock,  the  20th  of 
October? 

It  would  be  most  interesting  to  know  just  what 
Mr.  Kim  Noch  Kyung’s  thoughts  were  as  he  read 
this  letter.  He  must  have  been  greatly  surprised 
that  the  friendless,  shy  waff  of  Saemal  had  found  a 
friend  and  protector  of  such  high  moral  standards 
as  this  Chun  seemed  to  be.  He  must  have  realized 
that  this  was  true;  that,  although  there  was  a di- 
vorce law,  very  few  bothered  to  take  advantage  of 
it;  perhaps  not  one  cast-off  wife  in  a thousand  paid 
any  attention  to  legal  forms  before  going  to  the  home 
of  a new  husband.  The  fact  that  only  the  first  mar- 
riage was  attended  with  any  ceremony  or  formality 


136  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

whatsoever  shows  that  these  “small  wives”  or  con- 
cubines had  no  rights  or  position,  a thing  which 
seemed  to  matter  little,  or  not  at  all,  to  the  great  mass 
of  people.  No  doubt  he  thought  that  Kumokie  had 
long  ago  been  sent  to  the  house  of  a new  “mother-in- 
law,”  if  he  thought  at  all  of  the  fate  of  the  child. 
Perhaps  the  first  thing  which  made  him  wonder 
about  the  girl  and  her  present  life  was  the  evident 
high-minded  ideas  of  the  man  who  was  now  her 
champion. 

Noch  Kyung’s  reply  to  the  letter  was  very  non- 
committal as  to  his  opinions  on  the  subject.  He 
merely  stated  that  he  would  meet  Mr.  Chun,  as  he 
desired,  at  the  legal  office  on  the  date  indicated. 
This  answer  brought  much  relief  to  Mr.  Chun;  for 
he  was  just  beginning  to  realize  that,  Kumokie  being 
now  an  attractive  and  well-educated  young  woman, 
this  old  affair  of  her  childhood  might  make  trouble 
for  them  if  the  man  was  so  minded.  This  relief, 
however,  gave  way  to  a greater  anxiety  when,  after 
waiting  at  the  office  a whole  day,  no  Kim  appeared. 
What  did  it  mean?  Was  the  man  not  going  to  keep 
his  word? 

After  receiving  the  unusual  and  unexpected  letter, 
Noch  Kyung’s  thoughts  dwelt  much  upon  the  subject 
of  it.  He  was  now  a well-to-do  merchant,  with  all  of 
the  comforts  and  many  of  the  luxuries  of  life.  Sev- 
eral years  before  he  had  been  made  a partner  in  the 
firm  where  he  had  been  first  apprenticed  when  he 
fled  from  the  house  of  old  man  Ye.  His  wife  was 
ignorant  and  stupid,  though  she  kept  his  house,  did 
the  housework,  and  cared  for  their  two  children  with 
unselfish  devotion.  The  more  he  thought  of  the 


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137 


proposed  trip  and  divorce,  the  more  insistent  became 
the  thought  that  if  these  people  were  Christians  and 
had  educated  the  girl  she  might  be  just  such  a 
woman  as  his  wife  should  be.  Surely  he  was  able  now 
financially  to  support  two  households  if  he  so  de- 
sired. This  would  be  but  replacing  his  first  wife  in 
her  rightful  position.  The  outcome  of  his  medita- 
tions was  a determination  to  find  out  what  he  could 
about  Kumokie  before  he  should  appear  before  the 
court  and  give  his  consent  to  the  papers  of  divorce- 
ment. 

The  first  objective  of  his  search  was  Okchun. 
Here  in  this  obscure  mountain  village  where  no  one 
knew  him  it  was  easy  to  get  the  neighbors  to  talk  of 
Chun  Tochil  and  his  household.  Only  praise  and 
words  of  loving  admiration  were  heard  from  anyone 
concerning  the  adopted  daughter.  The  things  he 
heard  of  the  beauty,  the  character,  and  the  sweetness 
of  his  child  wife  only  strengthened  his  plan  to  see  her 
before  he  should  decide  definitely  about  the  future 
and  whether  he  cared  to  lose  her  or  not. 

It  was  not  a difficult  matter  to  obtain  information 
from  the  unsuspecting  neighbors  concerning  the 
whereabouts  of  the  girl.  So  he  set  forth  again  with 
a light  heart  for  the  far  distant  city. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
An  Unwelcome  Visitor 

AFTER  gaining  what  information  he  could  at 
Okchun,  Noch  Kyung  lost  no  timejn  making 
his  way  to  Songdo,  the  pine  capital.  One  bright, 
crisp  day  in  the  late  fall  he  entered  the  ancient  gate 
of  that  city.  He  stopped  after  passing  through  the 
south  gate  and,  gazing  upon  the  old  gray  walls  and 
the  ponderous,  double-roofed  archway,  said  to  a 
fellow  traveler:  “Well,  I’ve  long  thought  that  I’d 
have  a sight-see  of  this  city.  Truly  it  does  not  seem 
much  in  comparison  with  the  beauties  of  Seoul;  but 
before  we  leave  we  must  see  the  crumbling  founda- 
tions of  the  old  palace  and  those  relics  of  bygone  days, 
for  I love  the  study  of  history  and  like  to  think  that 
our  country  was  old  and  our  civilization  was  hoary 
with  age  when  the  ancestors  of  these  upstart  West- 
ern nations  were  still  wild  savages.  The  conceit  of 
them,  coming  here  to  teach  their  little  mushroom 
classics  and  so-called  ‘education’  and  ‘refinement’ 
to  the  people  of  an  ancient  city  such  as  this!  Amer- 
icans, too,  they  say,  the  very  newest  nation  of  all. 
Why,  their  little  island  in  the  midst  of  the  Western 
ocean  had  not  yet  been  discovered  when  the  great 
Wangs  reigned  here.  What  under  the  sun  do  they 
have  of  value  to  teach  our  people,  who  are  taught  in 
all  the  learning  of  the  sages?  It  is  disgusting!” 

So  with  mumbled  defiance  he  made  his  way  in 
search  of  a friendly  inn,  which  is  not  a difficult  mat- 
ter when  one  has  plenty  of  coin  of  the  realm  and  is 
possessed  of  the  manner  and  airs  of  a gentleman. 
(138) 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor  139 

After  settling  in  a comfortable  place  for  the  time 
he  should  be  in  the  city,  Noch  Kyung  began  to  make 
inquiry  concerning  the  school  for  girls.  Perhaps  the 
majority  of  the  people  here  would  have  felt  as  he 
did,  that  girls  had  no  use  for  knowledge  of  anything 
outside  the  four  walls  of  their  homes. 

There  were,  however,  even  twenty  years  ago,  a 
little  group  of  Christians  in  this  the  seat  of  the  glo- 
rious dynasty  of  the  Wangs.  The  vision  of  these 
people  was  unlimited  by  the  prejudices  of  their  an- 
cestors. They  saw  beyond  the  narrow  confines  of 
their  surroundings  and  sought  for  wider  fields  of 
development  and  usefulness  for  their  daughters  as 
well  as  for  their  sons.  The  beginning  of  this  school 
was  not  instituted  by  the  missionaries,  but  by  the 
Christians  themselves,  who  saw  the  need  of  edu- 
cating their  daughters  if  they  would  build  up  a 
strong,  intelligent  Church  of  Christ  in  Korea.  Just 
about  the  time  that  our  story  opened  in  Saemal  these 
faithful,  energetic  men  and  women  in  the  old  capital 
had  gathered  the  funds  to  pay  the  salary  of  a girl 
from  a Seoul  mission  school  who  came  to  do  the  work 
of  a teacher  and  asked  the  Board  of  Missions  to  send 
a lady  to  direct  the  work.  The  beginning,  with 
twelve  little  girls  and  one  teacher,  was  small  but 
developed  rapidly  and  was  soon  housed  in  a more 
comfortable  building  with  larger  financial  aid  from 
the  friends  in  America. 

However,  Noch  Kyung  knew  nothing  of  these 
things.  He  only  felt  that  these  insolent,  undesira- 
ble foreigners  were  trying  to  graft  something  alien 
into  the  ancient  civilization  of  his  people.  He  re- 
sented the  idea  that  they  should  be  leading  the 


140 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


young  women  away  from  the  old  ways  which  had 
been  good  enough  for  their  mothers,  yet  he  was  so 
inconsistent  as  to  be  willing  to  reap  whatever  ad- 
vantages there  might  be  from  the  education  of 
Kumokie.  He  thought  bitterly  of  the  things  he  had 
heard  concerning  the  lack  of  filial  piety  on  the  part 
of  the  new  women  of  the  West.  He  knew  nothing 
about  what  they  were  teaching  the  girls  here;  but 
the  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  he  feared 
their  minds  would  be  turned  away  from  the  duties 
of  the  home  and  the  “four  principles  of  conduct.” 
Like  a typical  old-timer  of  the  Orient,  he  thought 
that  a woman’s  place  was  to  obey  her  father  and  her 
husband,  to  work  hard  and  keep  the  home,  and  to 
bear  children.  What  need  had  she  to  read  the 
classics?  In  the  bitterness  of  the  moment  he  forgot 
his  lady  mother  and  her  boasted  knowledge,  but 
then  he  always  thought  of  her  as  a brilliant  excep- 
tion to  the  general  rule. 

As  he  jauntily  lighted  a cigarette,  our  young 
friend  emerged  from  the  inn,  ready  for  his  first  battle 
with  modern  thought  and  said  to  the  landlord: 
“My  good  fellow,  can  you  tell  me  where  or  in  what 
direction  I will  find  the  Christian  school  for  girls? 
I understand  there  is  such  an  institution  in  your 
progressive  city.” 

“O  yes;  anyone  can  tell  you  the  way.  It  is  that 
large  building  on  the  hill  in  yonder  north  part  of  the 
city.  You  can  scarcely  lose  the  way.  Are  you  a 
teacher?” 

“A  teacher  in  a girls’  school?  Well,  hardly.  But 
tell  me,  pray,  what  kind  of  a place  is  this  school? 
I have  a very  poor  idea  of  a place  and  people  that 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


141 


give  their  time  to  teaching  stupid  girls,  putting  fool- 
ish ideas  into  their  silly  heads.  They  would  much 
better  leave  them  to  be  taught  by  their  husbands 
and  mothers-in-law.  What  sort  of  people  are  they, 
anyway?” 

“O,  well  enough,  I suppose.  I never  heard  any 
special  harm  in  them.  I have  a niece  who  went  to 
school  there.  She  is  a nice  girl;  is  married  now  and 
doing  very  well.  I have  enough  to  do  to  attend  to 
my  own  affairs  and  don’t  pay  much  attention  to  the 
new-fangled  ideas  of  these  Christians,  but  I don’t 
think  they  do  any  harm.” 

“Harm!  Harm!  What  do  you  call  harm?  If 
leading  young  girls  from  the  paths  of  obedience  and 
virtue  as  taught  by  our  sages — if  that  isn’t  harm 
enough,  what  is  it?” 

“Yes,  sir.  Well,  I’m  sure  I don’t  know.”  The  old 
fellow  was  servile  in  his  desire  to  please  this  peppery 
young  patron.  “I’m  sure  I don’t  know.  Haven’t 
thought  much  or  deeply  about  these  matters  as  your 
excellency  has  undoubtedly  done.  As  I said,  they 
let  me  alone,  and  I leave  them  alone.  I don’t  know 
much  about  them.” 

“Seoul  is  already  contaminated  by  this  new-edu- 
cation  idea,  but  I was  surprised  to  find  it  getting  a 
hold  in  this  conservative  city  of  an  ancient  civiliza- 
tion. This  pine  capital  has  a reputation  of  being 
very  devoted  to  the  old  code  of  our  ancestors,  and  I 
am  astonished  at  this  nonsense  here.” 

With  this  parting  word  the  gentleman  passed 
out  of  the  noisy  court  of  the  inn  and,  with  the 
gleaming  stones  for  a guide,  made  his  way  with 
something  of  anxiety  toward  the  school  building. 


142  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

Noch  Kyung  was  much  changed  since  the  early 
days  of  his  youth  spent  in  Saemal.  He  was  now  a 
successful  man  of  business,  with  an  air  ofcommand 
and  a somewhat  haughty  manner.  He  had  found 
the  business  world  a hard  place  in  which  to  hold 
ideals.  Much  of  the  fine  sheen  of  his  youthful  days 
had  been  sadly  rubbed  off  in  his  contact  with  a god- 
less world. 

In  daily  touch  with  men  of  dishonor  and  dis- 
honesty, he  was  tainted  by  the  atheism  and  mate- 
rialistic tendency  of  the  age.  In  fact,  he  was  un- 
consciously somewhat  of  an  epicurean.  “Let  us 
eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  may  die” 
might  have  been  his  motto.  The  higher  ideals  of 
his  sages  were  no  longer  pondered.  He  merely 
tried  to  be  honest  and  respectable  because  it  was  the 
safest  way.  His  two  chief  aims  in  life  were  the  pur- 
suit of  success  in  business  and  the  pursuit  of  happi- 
ness. To  desire  a thing  meant  that  he  would  bend 
every  energy  to  obtain  it.  As  for  his  home  life,  it 
was  the  counterpart  of  that  of  numberless  young 
men  such  as  he.  The  ignorant  women  who  did  the 
work  of  the  house,  the  cooking,  washing,  and  sewing, 
was  little  more  than  a slave.  To  him  home  was 
merely  a place  to  go  after  business  and  pleasure 
were  over.  For  companionship  and  happiness  he 
searched  elsewhere.  “Cusagie,”  or  “What-you- 
may-eall-her,”  had  a great  dread  and  fear  of  her 
master,  yet  she  would  have  given  her  life  to  have 
been  able  to  please  him.  She  yearned  for  a kind 
word;  her  eyes  dumbly  sought  his  approval  like 
those  of  a faithful  dog;  whether  she  served  his  food 
or  answered  his  call,  it  was  always  with  the  hope 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


143 


that  perhaps  he  must  give  her  a kindly  glance,  that 
she  might  win  a word  of  approval.  Yet,  with  all 
this  passionate  desire  to  please  him,  she  would  have 
been  the  most  astonished  person  in  the  world  if  he 
only  once  had  turned  to  her  for  advice  and  compan- 
ionship. She  was  only  “the  inside  of  the  house,”  a 
nonentity.  Was  it  strange  that  her  dreams  and  as- 
pirations were  not  very  high? 

As  Noch  Kyung  turned  his  face  to  the  school  on 
the  hill  his  mind  went  back  to  the  Kumokie  of  the 
old  days.  What  would  she  be  like  now?  She  had 
been  devoted  to  him  in  her  childish  way  and  would 
now,  no  doubt,  be  pleased  and  flattered  if,  after 
seeing  her,  he  would  desire  to  reinstate  her  as  his 
first  wife.  Thus  in  his  masculine  vanity  he  rea- 
soned, with  never  a thought  that  the  young  lady  in 
question  might  have  some  ideas  of  her  own  about 
her  future.  So,  with  great  assurance  and  a cock- 
sure air  of  self-confidence,  Mr.  Kim  approached  the 
gatehouse.  The  old  man  who  answered  his  sum- 
mons asked  him  to  state  his  business;  but,  pushing 
by  the  old  man  with  scarcely  a glance  at  the  object 
impeding  his  progress,  he  continued  on  his  way. 

“Wait;  please  wait,  sir.  You  must  tell  me  your 
message,  and  I will  take  it  for  you  to  the  school.” 

“I  want  to  see  my  sister,  of  course.  Call  Kim 
Kumokie  and  tell  her  that  her  brother  wants  to  see 
her.  Hurry  up!”  with  a haughty  stare  at  the  un- 
comfortable servant. 

“Yes,  sir,  certainly.  Just  come  this  way  to  the  of- 
fice and  wait  a few  minutes,  please.” 

Noch  Kyung  was  led  into  a little  room  near 
the  front  entrance,  where  he  seated  himself  stiffly 


144  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

in  the  big  chair  in  front  of  the  desk  and,  with  a 
pleasant  feeling  of  advantage,  awaited  the  next  act 
of  the  drama. 

After  a short  time  of  waiting,  there  was  the  soft 
thud  of  sandaled  feet  in  the  corridor  outside,  the 
door  was  opened  quickly,  and  Kumokie  was  before 
him.  But  what  a different  Kumokie  from  the  child 
he  remembered  in  those  far-distant  days  by  the 
sea!  That  had  been  a quiet,  timid  child,  too  shy 
and  easily  frightened  to  even  answer  when  spoken 
to;  pretty,  in  a way,  yes,  but  scarcely  giving  prom- 
ise of  the  loveliness  of  this  young  woman  who  stood 
in  the  door.  Modest  and  quiet  she  was  still,  but 
there  was  some  undefined  quality  in  her  poise  that 
spoke  of  a beautiful  spirit.  That  calm  brow;  those 
mobile,  tender  lips;  the  soft,  steady  light  in  the 
limpid  depths  of  the  sweet  brown  eyes — all  told  of 
the  purity  and  peace  of  a heart  at  rest.  Her  abun- 
dant hair,  black  and  glossy  as  the  wing  of  a black- 
bird, was  wound  like  a coronet  about  the  shapely 
head,  framing  a face  of  rare  beauty  and  throwing 
into  contrast  the  creamy  skin. 

Kumokie  had  been  greatly  surprised  to  hear  that 
her  brother  had  come.  This  could  be  no  other  than 
Yohn,  and  perhaps  he  bore  an  urgent  message  from 
the  loved  ones  in  Okchun.  She  hurried  down  to 
the  office.  But  she  did  not  recognize  the  visitor 
and  thought  that  it  was  a mistake,  a message 
meant  for  some  other  student. 

“Excuse  me,  please,”  she  murmured. 

She  was  about  to  close  the  door,  when  an  amused 
voice  called  to  her;  “Kumokie!  Don’t  you  kno^f 
me?” 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


145 


“You?  Here?” 

Surprise  and  indignation  filled  Kumokie’s  heart 
as  she  entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door.  This 
man  was  one  who  seldom  stood  in  the  presence  of 
women.  As  a favored  lord  of  creation,  he  was  used 
to  receiving  homage  from  them.  It  would  have  been 
in  line  with  his  usual  conduct  for  Kumokie  to  stand 
while  he  remained  seated,  but  something  in  the 
queenly  grace  of  the  young  woman  before  him  called 
him  to  his  feet,  and,  not  realizing  what  he  was  doing, 
he  had  risen  and  was  facing  the  little  one  whom  he 
had  left,  thrown  away  like  a worn-out  shoe,  with 
scarcely  a thought,  certainly  with  no  care  for  her 
future  or  regret  for  a blighted  life.  Now  he  looked 
at  her  as  he  might  at  one  who  had  risen  from  the 
dead.  Could  this  really  be  the  Kumokie  whom  he 
had  pitied  and  despised?  He  scarcely  knew  what 
he  had  expected  to  find,  surely  nothing  like  this 
wonderful  creature. 

“How  dare  you  come  here?”  The  fear  which 
had  gripped  her  heart  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the 
voice  much  loved,  long  waited  for,  was  giving  way 
now  before  the  indignation  of  her  heart.  He  did 
not  answer,  merely  gave  a supercilious  laugh  and 
looked  at  her  in  a way  which  made  her  flush  hot 
with  shame  and  humiliation. 

“You  have  no  right  to  come  here  like  this.  You 
deceived  me  and  made  me  break  the  school  rules.’ ’ 
With  a quick  action,  she  turned  to  the  door  and 
would  have  slipped  out  in  another  moment. 

But  he  saw  her  intention  and  had  no  idea  of  let- 
ting her  bolt  in  this  way  before  he  had  his  .say.  So, 
springing  past  her,  he  shoved  the  door  shut  again, 
10 


144  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

in  the  big  chair  in  front  of  the  desk  and,  with  a 
pleasant  feeling  of  advantage,  awaited  the  next  act 
of  the  drama. 

After  a short  time  of  waiting,  there  was  the  soft 
thud  of  sandaled  feet  in  the  corridor  outside,  the 
door  was  opened  quickly,  and  Kumokie  was  before 
him.  But  what  a different  Kumokie  from  the  child 
he  remembered  in  those  far-distant  days  by  the 
sea!  That  had  been  a quiet,  timid  child,  too  shy 
and  easily  frightened  to  even  answer  when  spoken 
to;  pretty,  in  a way,  yes,  but  scarcely  giving  prom- 
ise of  the  loveliness  of  this  young  woman  who  stood 
in  the  door.  Modest  and  quiet  she  was  still,  but 
there  was  some  undefined  quality  in  her  poise  that 
spoke  of  a beautiful  spirit.  That  calm  brow;  those 
mobile,  tender  lips;  the  soft, -steady  light  in  the 
limpid  depths  of  the  sweet  brown  eyes — all  told  of 
the  purity  and  peace  of  a heart  at  rest.  Her  abun- 
dant hair,  black  and  glossy  as  the  wing  of  a black- 
bird, was  wound  like  a coronet  about  the  shapely 
head,  framing  a face  of  rare  beauty  and  throwing 
into  contrast  the  creamy  skin. 

Kumokie  had  been  greatly  surprised  to  hear  that 
her  brother  had  come.  This  could  be  no  other  than 
Yohn,  and  perhaps  he  bore  an  urgent  message  from 
the  loved  ones  in  Okchun.  She  hurried  down  to 
the  office.  But  she  did  not  recognize  the  visitor 
and  thought  that  it  was  a mistake,  a message 
meant  for  some  other  student. 

“Excuse  me,  please,”  she  murmured. 

She  was  about  to  close  the  door,  when  an  amused 
voice  called  to  her:  “Kumokie!  Don’t  you  kno^f 
me?” 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


145 


“You?  Here?” 

Surprise  and  indignation  filled  Kumokie’s  heart 
as  she  entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door.  This 
man  was  one  who  seldom  stood  in  the  presence  of 
women.  As  a favored  lord  of  creation,  he  was  used 
to  receiving  homage  from  them.  It  would  have  been 
in  line  with  his  usual  conduct  for  Kumokie  to  stand 
while  he  remained  seated,  but  something  in  the 
queenly  grace  of  the  young  woman  before  him  called 
him  to  his  feet,  and,  not  realizing  what  he  was  doing, 
he  had  risen  and  was  facing  the  little  one  whom  he 
had  left,  thrown  away  like  a worn-out  shoe,  with 
scarcely  a thought,  certainly  with  no  care  for  her 
future  or  regret  for  a blighted  life.  Now  he  looked 
at  her  as  he  might  at  one  who  had  risen  from  the 
dead.  Could  this  really  be  the  Kumokie  whom  he 
had  pitied  and  despised?  He  scarcely  knew  what 
he  had  expected  to  find,  surely  nothing  like  this 
wonderful  creature. 

“How  dare  you  come  here?”  The  fear  which 
had  gripped  her  heart  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the 
voice  much  loved,  long  waited  for,  was  giving  way 
now  before  the  indignation  of  her  heart.  He  did 
not  answer,  merely  gave  a supercilious  laugh  and 
looked  at  her  in  a way  which  made  her  flush  hot 
with  shame  and  humiliation. 

“You  have  no  right  to  come  here  like  this.  You 
deceived  me  and  made  me  break  the  school  rules.” 
With  a quick  action,  she  turned  to  the  door  and 
would  have  slipped  out  in  another  moment. 

But  he  saw  her  intention  and  had  no  idea  of  let- 
ting her  bolt  in  this  way  before  he  had  his  say.  So, 
springing  past  her,  he  shoved  the  door  shut  again, 
10 


146  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

put  his  back  against  it,  and  faced  again  the  help- 
less, angry  girl.  His  lips  curled  with  a smile  of 
scorn.  “Don’t  be  impolite!  Now  you  cannot  go 
until  you  hear  what  I have  to  say.  I have  come  a 
long,  difficult  road  just  to  see  and  talk  with  you 
and  now  you  would  run  away  and  treat  me  like  this?’* 
The  man  watched  the  rich  blood  mount  to  her 
cheek  and  the  flash  of  the  beautiful  eyes,  and  he 
knew  that  his  search  and  journey  were  well  worth 
while;  that  his  treasure  was  even  more  lovely  than 
he  had  dared  to  dream;  best  of  all,  that  she  was  his 
own  after  all  these  years.  But  she  did  not  answer 
his  taunt,  neither  did  she  tremble  with  fear,  but, 
stepping  to  the  window,  calmly  looked  out  on  the 
tennis  court.  Only  her  high  color  and  the  proud 
tilt  of  her  head  marked  the  indignation  she  felt  as 
she  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

“What!  No  word  of  welcome,  little  lady?  Not 
one  word?  You  liked  me  well  enough  in  those  days 
long  ago.  Have  you  so  easily  forgotten,  then? 
You  ask  why  I came  thus?  There  is  no  reason  why 
I should  not  tell  you  at  once.  It  seems  that  you 
have  an  uncle,  Chun  Tochil,  who  is  more  or  less 
anxious  about  your  future.  This  meddlesome  gen- 
tleman wrote  to  me  about  a divorce.  So  I just  de- 
cided that  I would  come  and  see  you  and  talk  with 
you,  and,  ah,  eh,  well — just  see  what  your  mind 
was  on  the  subject.  Now  that  I’ve  seen  you  again, 
I like  your  looks.  Why,  you  are  a real  little  beauty.” 
The  girl  at  the  window  turned  toward  him  as  he 
talked.  She  was  fiercely  indignant  now.  “You  are 
insolent,  impertinent,  sir.  Please  remember  that 
you  are  speaking  to  a lady  and  a stranger.” 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


147 


“Indeed?  Well,  my  lady,  please  excuse  me.” 
He  mockingly  made  a deep  bow,  but  he  realized 
nevertheless  that  this  slip  of  a girl  was  more  and 
more  commanding  his  respect  as  well  as  his  admira- 
tion. “A  stranger,  did  you  say?  Well,  perhaps  we 
are  somewhat  strangers;  but  you  are  still  my  wife, 
you  know.” 

“Your  wife?”  What  scorn  and  contempt  she 
threw  into  her  voice! 

“Sure.  Your  uncle  realized  this,  or  why  should 
he  have  asked  for  a bill  of  divorcement?  If  he  had 
been  lacking  in  honor,  like  your  grandfather,  he 
might  have  long  ago  sent  you  to  the  house  of  a 
mother-in-law,  but  you  see  he  realized  my  legal 
rights  and  did  not  do  so.  As  for  me,  I had  about 
forgotten  all  about  that  child  marriage,  but  I shall 
not  forget  it  again.” 

His  admiring  eyes  dwelt  caressingly  on  the  per- 
fect form,  the  soft,  womanly  curves.  His  glances 
seemed  to  scorch  the  sensitive  girl,  and  the  bright 
color  fled  from  her  face,  leaving  her  pale  and  shaken. 

“Why  should  you  be  angry?  I was  not  to  blame, 
neither  were  you,  for  the  mistake  of  our  childhood; 
but  since  the  law  still  acknowledges  it  as  valid,  why 
should  we  not  make  the  best  of  it?” 

Kumokie  forgot  all  her  fear,  and  from  her  pale 
lips  tumbled  all  the  things  she  had  been  thinking 
these  many  months. 

“Why  should  I be  angry?  You  left  Saemal  and 
the  child  there  with  no  care  for  what  ill  fate  might 
befall  her.  With  a selfish  desire  to  carve  a future 
for  yourself,  you  left  in  the  night  like  a thief.  For 
many  years  that  child  did  not  understand  the  mean- 


148  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

ing  of  this,  and  her  devotion  followed  you  as  she 
foolishly  looked  and  longed  for  your  return.”  The 
listener’s  eyes  grew  brighter  at  this  confession,  and 
he  drew  a step  nearer,  but  she  lifted  her  hand  with 
an  imperious  gesture  of  warning  as  she  continued: 
“Now  I understand,  and  later  years  have  proved 
how  utterly  childish  were  those  hopes.  I also 
realize  how  miserably  low  and  selfish  are  your  mo- 
tives in  coming  here  now  to  destroy  my  peace  of 
mind.  Your  wife?  Never!  What  of  the  wife  and 
children  at  home?  Before  God  she  is  your  only 
and  lawful  wife,  and  you  insult  and  enrage  me  by 
coming  here  in  this  manner.  Do  you  know  that  to 
us  Christians  death  is  preferable  to  dishonor? 
No;  leave  me  instantly!  Not  one  word  more  will 
I hear!”  she  said,  pointing  to  the  door. 

This  commanding,  queenly  woman  was  some- 
thing new  to  Noch  Kyung  and  indefinitely  more 
attractive  and  interesting  than  the  insipid,  clinging 
thing  which  he  had  expected  to  find.  The  result 
of  her  defiance  was  but  to  strengthen  his  determina- 
tion to  convince  her  of  the  right  of  his  position. 

“Why  so  hasty  in  your  judgment?  There  is 
much  to  be  said.” 

“Go!  I will  not  listen — go!” 

“Yes,  you  shall  listen.  You  cannot  help  it;  you 
have  got  to  listen.  If  you  call  out,  you  will  bring 
some  of  these  foreigners  here,  and  they  will  expel  you 
in  disgrace  for  immodestly  talking  thus  to  a strange 
man.  So — as  I started  to  say” — 

But  his  light,  jeering  words  had  given  the  des- 
perate girl  a new  idea,  and,  before  he  saw  her  mo- 
tive, she  had  thrown  up  the  window  sash  and  called 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


149 


to  a girl  who  was  crossing  the  court:  “O  Alice! 
Please  help  me  just  a moment,  won’t  you?” 

The  young  girl  came  near  the  window  and  showed 
her  willing  eagerness  to  do  anything  for  the  much- 
adored  Kumokie. 

“Thank  you  so  much.  Please  go  to  Miss  Keith’s 
room  and  tell  her  that  there  is  a matter  of  great  im- 
portance concerning  which  I need  to  see  her  here 
at  once.  If  she  is  not  there,  then  please  find  one  of 
the  other  teachers,  for  it  is  something  specially 
urgent.” 

With  her  back  to  the  dismayed  and  outgeneraled 
young  man,  Kumokie  stood  by  the  open  window 
and  gazed  out  over  the  city,  ignoring  his  presence 
completely. 

Dismay,  unbelief,  and  anger  were  all  visible  in 
Noch  Kyung’s  face.  The  way  he  clenched  and  un- 
clenched his  hands  showed  that  he  would  have  liked 
very  much  just  then  to  have  exercised  his  rights  of 
chastisement  by  giving  this  unruly,  disrespectful 
woman  the  beating  she  so  richly  deserved.  Aston- 
ishment sealed  his  lips,  and  he  could  only  stand 
there  dumbly  and  stare  at  the  now  thoroughly 
composed  young  lady.  Then  with  a start  he  saw 
that  he  had  committed  an  unpardonable  offense 
against  good  custom  and  that  if  the  teacher  found 
him  there  serious  trouble  might  result.  There  was 
nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  accept  defeat  as  grace- 
fully as  he  could  and  to  retreat  while  the  road  was 
open,  but  so  angry  and  humiliated  was  he  at  this 
unexpected  move  on  her  part  that  he  fairly  hissed: 

“This  is  not  the  end,  proud  lady!  You  think  that 
I am  vanquished;  but,  although  you  seem  the  vie- 


150  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

tor  now,  the  battle  has  just  commenced,  and  I swear 
that  you  shall  pay  for  this,  and  pay  dearly!” 

Kumokie  stood  by  the  window  and  gazed  with 
unseeing  eyes  out  over  the  gray  old  city  as  quick 
footsteps  sounded  without.  The  visitor  had  just 
passed  the  inhospitable  gatekeeper  as  Miss  Keith 
entered  the  office.  She  gave  an  exclamation  of 
distress  as  she  saw  the  face  of  the  girl.  The  meaning 
and  possibilities  of  Noch  Kyung’s  last  threat  had 
reached  her  understanding,  and  she  was  no  longer  a 
tragedy  queen;  no  imperious  airs  now;  this  was  only 
a frightened  little  child  who  ran  to  her  friend  with 
outstretched  hands. 

“Kumokie,  child,  what  is  the  matter?  Are  you 
sick?” 

“No,  not  that;  but  something  awful  has  hap- 
pened. What  shall  I do?  O,  what  shall  I do?” 

Putting  her  arm  about  the  weeping  girl,  the  mis- 
sionary drew  her  gently  to  her  side  and  waited  for 
her  to  speak.  Something  serious  had  happened,  she 
knew,  to  so  distract  Kumokie,  who  was  usually  so 
calm. 

It  had  never  been  known  at  the  school  that  this 
favorite  pupil  had  been  married.  Her  uncle,  feeling 
that  in  reality  it  had  been  nothing  more  than  a 
betrothal,  thought  to  save  his  adopted  daughter 
this  shame  by  saying  nothing  about  it.  So  now  for 
the  first  time  Miss  Keith  heard  the  story  of  Kumo- 
kie’s  childhood  and  of  the  old  days  at  Saemal. 
Between  sobs  and  in  broken  snatches  the  sad,  pitiful 
tale  came  from  the  trembling  lips,  with  an  account 
of  that  day’s  incident. 

“You  dear,  brave  girl.  You  answered  him  well. 


An  Unwelcome  Visitor 


151 


Your  uncle  and  aunt  will  also  be  made  happy 
by  your  stand  for  the  right.”  Then  with  a few 
words,  she  tried  to  comfort  her. 

After  all,  the  story  was  easy  to  understand  and 
that  which,  under  the  circumstances,  one  would 
naturally  expect.  The  man,  after  forgotten  years 
of  neglect,  on  seeing  this  beautiful,  accomplished 
young  woman,  was  determined  to  claim  her  again, 
even  though  he  darkened  her  life  to  accomplish  it. 
Ten  years  before,  under  the  old  Korean  regime,  it 
would  have  been  a simple  matter  to  have  acquired 
the  divorce.  If  he  had  not  been  in  such  a hurry  on 
leaving  Saemal,  a few  words  before  witnesses,  the 
torn  documents  (wedding  contracts),  and  the  deed 
would  have  been  done.  With  the  present  day,  after 
the  Japanese  occupation,  the  laws  were  more  stren- 
uous, but  that  concerning  divorce  brought  no  more 
relief  than  the  former.  The  requirement  is  that 
husband  and  wife  appear  at  the  local  office  before 
the  proper  officials  with  the  application;  but  if  the 
man  refuse  to  consent,  then  the  woman  can  do  noth- 
ing. She  had  no  recourse  of  defense  if  he  refuse  to 
grant  her  the  legal  papers.  Hundreds  and  thou- 
sands— in  fact,  nearly  all,  save  the  higher  classes — 
really  pay  little  attention  to  this  troublesome  for- 
mality, and  frequently  women  who  have  been  de- 
serted, as  was  the  little  widow  of  Saemal,  would 
think  it  quite  a matter  of  course  to  go  to  another 
husband  with  little  or  no  ceremony  whatever. 
Knowing  old  man  Ye  as  did  Noch  Kyung,  he  had 
thought,  when  he  considered  the  matter  at  all,  that 
this  old  tyrant  of  Saemal  had  followed  this  custom, 


152  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

as  he  doubtless  would  have  done  but  for  the  timely 
interference  of  Uncle  Tochil. 

Noch  Kyung  had  said  that  he  would  not  release 
her.  Was  she  thus  to  be  bound  to  him  as  long  as  she 
lived,  although  another  woman  was  his  wife  and  the 
mother  of  his  children?  This  was  an  intolerable  sit- 
uation for  an  earnest  Christian  woman,  and  the 
two  friends  wept  together  over  the  bitterness  and 
pity  of  it  all.  Kumokie’s  cold  little  hands  clung  to 
the  older  woman’s  dress.  As  she  buried  her  face  on 
her  teacher’s  shoulder  deep,  painful  sobs  shook  the 
slender  body. 

“What  will  he  do?  Can  he  take  me  away?  I 
hate  him;  yes,  I do.  And  I used  to  love  him  so,  for 
he  was  good  to  me  in  those  days.” 

“No,  dear;  of  course  he  cannot  take  you  away.  I 
do  not  know  the  law  or  very  much  about  such  mat- 
ters, but  he  certainly  has  no  right  to  you  before  God 
or  man.  We  must  send  for  your  uncle,  and  he  will 
have  a good  lawyer  to  advise  him  as  to  what  steps 
it  will  be  best  to  take.  But  of  one  thing  I am  sure: 
he  can  never  take  you  against  your  will.  If  you  re- 
man true  to  the  right  and  trust  your  Master  to  keep 
you  from  harm,  you  need  have  no  fear  for  the  fu- 
ture, dark  as  it  may  seem  just  now.” 

Ah!  yes,  true  enough;  but  while  her  lips  were  still 
declaring  her  hatred  and  distrust  for  Noch  Kyung 
she  instinctively  knew  that  the  hardest  battles 
would  be  those  to  fight  in  her  own  heart,  that  if  she 
could  remain  true  and  strong  to  oppose  this  evil 
thing  the  victory  would  be  hers.  There  had  come  at 
last  that  for  which  she  had  longed  and  prayed  during 
so  many  weary  hours.  The  man  she  loved  had  at  last 


A n Unwelcome  Visitor 


153 


claimed  her,  but  too  late!  The  barriers  which  sepa- 
rated them  now  were  insurmountable  if  she  remained 
true  to  the  principles  which  she  professed.  Sud- 
denly this  truth,  like  a flood,  swept  over  her,  leaving 
her  weak  and  faint. 

“I  am  so  weak,  and  I feel  so  helpless.  Please 
pray  that  I may  have  His  grace  and  strength  for 
the  struggle,”  she  gasped,  sinking  on  her  knees 
beside  her  friend. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
To  Make  Doubly  Sure 

NOT  very  long,  counted  by  figures  on  a dial,  after 
the  dapper  young  visitor  came  inquiring  for  his 
sister,  the  same  gentleman  again  passed  the  school 
portals,  and  the  old  gatekeeper  wondered  what  his 
sister  could  have  done  or  said  to  have  made  the  young 
fellow  look  so  angry. 

Surprised  and  confused,  Noch  Kyung  could  do  noth- 
ing but  accept  the  ultimatum  of  that  queenly  young 
person,  and  he  had  left  rather  more  hurriedly  than  was 
consistent  with  proper  dignity,  but  that  course  had 
seemed  necessary  to  escape  further  humiliation. 
If  Kumokie  had  been  trying  to  awaken  his  interest, 
which  thing  had  not  entered  her  mind,  she  could 
scarcely  have  found  any  method  more  successful 
than  that  which  she  had  followed.  The  same  queer 
kink  of  human  nature  which  makes  the  child  prefer 
the  forbidden  sweets  to  any  other  treat  makes  the 
full-grown  man  more  anxious  to  acquire  that 
which  is  most  difficult  to  obtain,  and  particularly 
is  this  true  in  affairs  of  the  heart.  The  woman  too 
easily  won  has  little  attraction  compared  to  the 
bright  being  who  with  maiden  modesty  holds  her- 
self beyond  his  sphere. 

Noch  Kyung  had  gone  to  the  school  coolly  in- 
different, though  curious  as  to  the  charming  young 
woman.  He  came  away  hotly  indignant  but  keen  to 
conquer  her  rebellious  spirit,  to  make  that  proud 
creature  bow  before  him  as  master.  It  would  be  too 
much  to  say  that  at  this  first  interview  he  had  fallen 
(154) 


To  Make  Doubly  Sure 


155 


in  love  with  his  wife,  but  he  had  seen  that  this  was  an 
unusually  beautiful  woman,  that  she  had  the  culture 
and  refinement  desirable  in  the  one  who  should  take 
the  place  he  offered  her  in  his  home. 

“She  is  mine,  and  I'll  have  her — the  tigress!” 
This  was  his  avowed  course  as  he  strode  away  mood- 
ily to  the  inn.  Whether  he  won  her  by  the  tenderness 
and  devotion  of  a lover  or  by  the  hard,  harsh  meth- 
ods of  the  cave  man  was  of  no  importance  to  him. 
He  knew  that  she  had  been  prejudiced  against  him 
by  the  Christian  teachings  of  the  relatives  who  had 
reared  and  educated  her,  and  his  bitterness  against 
them  increased.  He  completely  overlooked  the  fact 
that  she  owed  to  these  influences  the  very  qualities 
which  had  drawn  him  to  her  again.  Neither  did  he 
think  of  her  probable  condition  if  she  had  remained 
with  the  old  miser  in  Saemal,  where,  long  before  this, 
in  following  the  customs  and  ideas  of  those  people, 
her  life  would  have  been  so  degraded  and  the  bur- 
dens so  heavy  as  to  have  brought  her  to  misery  and 
premature  old  age. 

Feeling  thwarted  and  altogether  uncertain  as  to 
his  rights  in  question,  although  he  had  spoken  with 
such  assurance,  Noch  Kyung  sought  a well-known 
lawyer  and  laid  before  him  his  interesting  problem, 
asking  his  advice  in  making  more  secure  the  slender 
bonds  which  existed  between  him  and  the  girl.  That 
which  he  heard  from  the  legal  adviser  sent  him  off 
again  in  post  haste,  this  time  in  the  direction  of 
Saemal. 

He  had  never  expected  to  visit  again  this  despised 
spot.  These  long-distant,  unhappy  days  of  his  boy- 
hood seemed  like  half-forgotten  dreams.  He  ap- 


156  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

proached  the  village  by  the  path  along  the  beach, 
but  his  thoughts  were  so  preoccupied  with  plans 
for  the  future  that  he  passed  the  old  lookout,  the 
spot  which  had  once  been  his  house  of  dreams  and 
later  the  greatest  solace  to  the  deserted  Kumokie — 
passed  it  without  a glance  of  recognition.  Riding  at 
rest  on  the  blue  waves  of  the  tiny  bay  were  two  fish- 
ing smacks,  and  near  by  a rusty-looking  old  man  sat 
on  an  overturned  dory  by  a sand  doon  and  puffed 
away  at  his  pipe  while  he  lazily  mended  an  ancient 
net.  The  young  dandy  from  the  capital,  fresh  and 
crisp  looking  in  his  new  linen  mantle,  approached  this 
individual  and  stood  looking  down  on  his  work  a 
moment  before  he  inquired:  “Will  you  please  tell  me, 
stranger,  where  I can  find  the  house  of  Ye  Chun 
Suk?  I suppose  that  he  still  lives  in  your  honorable 
village  ?” 

The  old  fisherman  very  deliberately  and  slowly 
laid  down  the  net,  took  the  long-stemmed  pipe  from 
his  lips,  and  with  the  dazed  look  of  noncomprehen- 
sion gazed  at  the  newcomer  as  though  he  had  not 
heard. 

Then  raising  his  voice  and  with  a show  of  some 
annoyance,  Noch  Kyung  repeated:  “I  say,  where 
does  Ye  Chun  Suk  live?  Are  you  deaf?” 

Disdaining  to  answer  the  question,  the  old  man 
replied  with  evident  distrust:  “Who  are  you?  What 
business  is  that  to  you?” 

“Me?  O,  I’m  just  a business  man  from  Seoul.  I 
used  to  know  Ye  a long  time  ago  and  just  thought 
I’d  hunt  him  up.” 

The  steady,  inquisitive  gaze  of  the  old  fellow  made 
him  somewhat  self-conscious  and  embarrassed,  and 


To  Make  Doubly  Sure 


157 


he  stooped  and,  picking  up  a shell,  flung  it  out  over 
the  blue  water.  With  an  inarticulate  growl  the  old 
man  took  up  his  mending  again  and  turned  a cold 
shoulder  to  the  unwelcome  visitor.  This  strange  and 
impolite  behavior  nettled  that  gentleman  very  much. 

“What’s  the  matter?  Why  don’t  you  answer  a 
polite  question?” 

“I  don’t  know  anything  about  it.  You  can  find 
out  for  yourself,”  he  shrugged  in  answer. 

Then  some  trick  of  expression  or  turn  of  speech 
brought  back  to  Noch  Kyung  some  vivid  recollection 
of  the  past.  In  a swift  moment  he  recognized 
the  man,  and  in  a warm  friendly  voice,  he  said: 
“O,  I know  you  now.  You  are  Mr.  Paek,  who  once 
lived  on  the  hill  near  the  great  chestnut  tree.” 

Mr.  Paek  gazed  at  him  open  mouthed  with  as- 
tonishment, still  his  sense  of  discretion  did  not  de- 
sert him.  “Well,  what  if  I am?  I didn’t  say  I wasn’t, 
did  I?  But  who  are  you?  That’s  what  I want  to 
know.” 

“Come  now,  don’t  be  so  suspicious,  Mr.  Paek. 
Don’t  you  remember  the  chap  that  came  and  lived 
with  Ye  for  a while  as  his  son-in-law.  Don’t  you 
know  me?” 

“There  does  seem  to  be  something  familiar  about 
you,”  shaking  his  head  doubtfully;  “but  I don’t 
know.  Those  dogs  of  the  law  are  mighty  cute  and 
smart,  but  it’s  none  of  my  business  to  help  them 
even  against  old  man  Ye.” 

Seeing  his  fear,  Noch  Kyung  told  him  enough 
about  himself  to  allay  his  distrust  and  to  prove  his 
identity. 


158  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

“ Does  Ye  still  live  in  the  little  house  on  the  beach?” 
he  asked? 

“No,  that  house  fell  down  while  he  was  in  prison. 
The  old  woman  died  during  that  time,  too;  and  he 
now  has  one  room  at  the  house  of  Han  Comchil’s 
since  he  came  back.” 

“Prison?  What  did  you  say  about  prison?” 

“Yes,  prison.  Where  have  you  been  that  you  did 
not  know  that?” 

“Truly  I have  heard  nothing  from  Saemal  or  of 
the  people  here  since  I left,  ten  years  ago,”  he  replied, 
sitting  down  near  the  overturned  boat  on  the  white 
sand.  “Won’t  you  please  tell  me  about  what  has 
happened  before  I go  to  see  him?  Then  I will  know 
better  what  to  say  to  him.” 

“Counterfeiter.  Buzzard’s  Island  over  there,” 
pointing  with  his  chin  in  a general  direction  seaward. 
“He  got  caught  shortly  after  you  left,  I guess.  Gave 
Ponto,  the  robber,  bad  money.  He  and  Han  were 
put  in  prison.  Just  got  out  three  weeks  ago.” 

“So  that  was  it?  Well,  why  didn’t  I guess  it  be- 
fore?” 

The  old  Korean  money,  the  nickel  or  the  cash, 
was  easy  enough  counterfeited  with  even  a few  crude 
instruments  if  one  had  the  ability  to  imitate  or  copy 
designs.  This  news  explained  the  many  things 
which  for  these  years  had  remained  a mystery  about 
Ye,  and  as  he  climbed  the  hill  leading  to  Han’s 
house  he  mused  on  the  probable  condition  of  the  Ye 
exchequer  and  on  the  way  in  which  fate  was  playing 
into  his  hands.  “Just  the  same  Ye,  no  doubt;  and 
in  the  old  days  he  would  have  sold  his  soul,  if  he  has 
one,  for  a few  hundred  yang , and  his  precious  grand- 


To  Make  Doubly  Sure 


159 


daughter  will  be  no  more  to  him  now  than  she  was 
then.  Looks  pretty  smooth  sailing  for  me.” 

Thus  comforting  himself,  he  came  to  the  door  of 
Han’s  house.  There  he  was  immediately  ushered 
into  the  sarang.  He  could  scarcely  recognize  in  the 
white-headed,  broken  old  man  whom  he  found  there 
the  man  he  had  once  so  hated  and  despised.  The 
changes  wrought  by  the  years,  however,  were  mostly 
external;  in  many  ways  he  was  not  greatly  different. 
The  loss  of  most  of  his  hoarded  wealth  and  the  secret 
source  of  it  had  filled  him  with  a great  bitterness 
which  had  been  intensified  by  his  long  term  of  con- 
finement. He  did  not  recognize  the  visitor  who  now 
stood  before  him,  and  he  glanced  at  him  with  scant 
interest  and  less  courtesy. 

“Well,  Father  Ye,  you  don’t  seem  to  know  your 
long-lost  son.” 

Long  and  searchingly  this  strangely  assorted  pair 
looked  at  each  other,  looked  as  though  each  was 
trying  to  read  the  other’s  thoughts  and  motives. 
The  old  antipathy  revived,  and  the  man  seemed 
more  like  he  used  to  be  as  he  proceeded  to  lash  him- 
self into  a fury. 

“You  low-down,  good-for-nothing  son  of  Kim! 
What  do  you  come  here  for  now?  Just  to  tor- 
ture and  laugh  at  a poor,  broken  man.  Why 
don’t  you  laugh?  Isn’t  it  funny  to  see  me  thus?  Ha ! 
ha!  Well,  even  if  it  does  amuse  you,  it  will  be  safest 
for  you  to  get  away  from  here,  and  pretty  quick  too. 
I am  not  in  the  mood  to  take  any  of  your  imper- 
tinence now,  not  one  word!  Go,  I say!  Go!”  He 
shook  a menacing  fist  at  the  visitor  and  scrambled  to 
his  feet. 


160  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

“It  isn’t  good  business  to  send  me  off  like  this. 
Neither  is  it  wisdom  to  act  and  judge  so  harshly  be- 
fore you  know  the  facts  and  the  purpose  I had  in 
mind  when  coming  here.  I did  not  know  about  your 
trouble  until  a few  minutes  ago.  I only  came  to 
talk  over  a certain  question  of  business.  There  is  a 
little  matter  in  which  you  can  do  me  a great  service, 
and  in  so  doing  you  have  much  also  to  gain.  It  is 
to  your  favor  to  hear  what  I have  to  say;  but  of 
course  if  you  refuse  to  hear  me,  I can  only  retire,” 
replied  Noch  Kyung  as  he  made  a motion  to  turn 
away. 

“Business?  What  business  transactions  has  a 
dragon  with  a snail?  You  seem  to  have  managed 
very  well  in  your  honorable  business  for  these  past 
years  without  any  great  need  of  my  aid.  I’ll  make  a 
guess  that  it’s  some  knavish  trick  of  which  you  are 
ashamed  that  you  are  up  to  now.” 

Noch  Kyung  was  generally  somewhat  of  a diplo- 
mat not  lacking  for  words,  but  this  unexpected  at- 
titude on  the  part  of  this  old  man  made  him  very 
uncomfortable  and  uncertain  as  to  how  to  begin  his 
story  or  what  to  say.  It  was  hard  to  tell  a man  like 
this  his  plans  for  the  future.  Not  knowing  just  what 
to  say  or  what  would  be  the  best  manner  of  approach, 
but,  realizing  that  something  had  to  be  done  quickly, 
he  blurted  out  the  whole  secret  without  any  intro- 
duction: “It’s  Kumokie.” 

“So  that’s  it,  huh?  Well,  my  fine  gentlemen, 
she  has  turned  out  to  be  a heap  too  good  for  you, 
from  what  I hear.  I’ll  tell  you  right  now  before  you 
begin,  to  save  your  breath.  The  despised  daughter 
of  the  low  house  of  Ye  despises  you  now,  does  she? 


To  Make  Doubly  Sure 


161 


Well,  I'm  glad  of  it;  proud  I am  of  her  for  it.  You 
need  not  come  to  me  for  any  help  in  your  infernal 
plans.  Her  mother’s  brother  is  now  her  guardian, 
her  father.  Go  to  him  and  make  your  important 
words.’ 

“I  suppose  I had  best  tell  you  the  whole  story. 
It  is  my  way  to  be  frank  and  sincere,  and  I’ll  tell  you 
everything.”  Then  he  told  about  Uncle  Tochil’s 
letter,  of  his  visit  to  Okchun  and  to  the  school,  of 
his  determination  to  keep  her  as  his  legal  wife,  and  of 
the  way  in  which  she  had  disdained  and  refused  his 
offer. 

“So?  Good  for  my  granddaughter!  Good  for 
little  Kumokie!  I’m  glad  she  has  some  spunk.  May 
she  live  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  years!” 

The  embarrassed  boy  flushed  at  these  taunting 
words  and  replied:  “You  thought  that  I had  come 
to  glory  over  your  misfortunes,  but  it  is  you  who  are 
rejoicing  over  my  troubles.  I intend  to  have  Kumo- 
kie whether  or  not  you  help  me,  but  it  is  very  much 
to  your  interest  to  do  so.” 

“ None  of  my  business.  I’m  through  with  you  and 
all  your  tribe  forever!” 

“ Please  don’t  say  that.  After  all,  why  should  you 
refuse  to  help  your  granddaughter  to  her  rightful 
place  as  the  first  and  lawful  wife  of  my  father’s  son? 
She  cannot  marry  anyone  else  according  to  her 
Christian  notions,  for  I will  not  give  the  consent 
necessary  to  the  divorce.  This  is  the  point  on  which 
the  case  hangs,  that  child  marriage  is  still  binding 
before  the  Japanese  courts.  But  one  point  I fear; 
and  I tell  you  frankly,  those  foreigners  in  that  school 
may  take  the  matter  up,  and  the  lawyer  whom  I 
11 


162  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

consulted  said  that  if  I could  have  evidence  that  my 
money  was  used  to  help  support  and  educate  her 
that  no  court  would  break  it.  All  I ask  is  that  you 
accept  funds  regularly  for  your  own  use  and  for  her. 
Of  course  she  and  her  uncle  are  to  think  that  it  is 
your  generosity,  and  then,  if  ever  it  becomes  necessa- 
ry that  you  testify  to  the  facts — well,  I am  doing 
well  in  my  business  and  can  afford  to  be  liberal.” 
Knowing  old  Ye  as  we  do,  it  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  say  that  before  long  they  were  down  to  the  sordid 
details  of  the  money  transactions.  Sarcastic  and 
biting  he  continued,  but  he  saw  that  this  was  a most 
glorious  opportunity  to  feather  his  nest  and  at  the 
same  time  to  help  his  “beloved  granddaughter”  to 
her  rightful  position.  It  gave  him  unusual  pleasure 
to  appear  to  stand  with  Kumokie  in  her  opposition 
as  long  as  by  so  doing  he  could  annoy  Noch  Kyung, 
but,  like  the  weathercock,  his  opinion  could  easily 
change  if  the  variable  wind  was  advantageous  to 
him.  Before  the  young  man  left  Saemal  the  matter 
was  arranged  with  perfect  satisfaction  to  each  of 
them  and  the  certainty  of  Kumokie’s  future  made 
doubly  sure. 


CHAPTER  XV 
Cusagie  at  Home 

CUSAGIE,  or  “ What-you-may-call-her,”  the  small 
wife  of  the  wealthy  rice  merchant,  Kim  Noch 
Kyung,  sat  in  her  richly  furnished  room  overlooking 
the  inner  courtyard.  She  was  lonely  and  tired  of  all 
this  empty  elegance.  She  had  been  much  happier  in 
the  days  when  her  lord  had  been  a poor  struggling  shop- 
keeper; she  had  no  need  of  a servant,  and  in  those 
days  her  life  had  been  full  and  running  over  with  the 
cooking,  sewing,  washing,  the  thousand  and  one  things 
that  must  be  done  about  a house.  But  now — it  was  all 
very  different;  there  was  money  in  plenty,  she  knew, 
and  servants  to  do  the  work.  But  how  could  she  be 
happy  when  all  day  long  there  was  nothing  for  her 
to  do?  She  looked  down  at  her  toil-worn,  reddened 
hands;  they  seemed  made  to  work.  She  spread  them 
out  on  her  knee  and  looked  at  them  critically. 

“He,  the  master,  wants  me  to  play  the  lady.  He 
doesn’t  want  me  to  chat  with  the  servants,  but  I just 
have  to  do  something.  I will,  too ! ” She  sprang  light- 
ly to  her  feet  and  made  her  way  toward  the  door  as 
she  murmered:  “He’ll  never  know,  anyway — and 
I’m  so  lonesome.”  She  stood  framed  in  the  doorway, 
a woman  not  more  than  thirty-five,  but  the  hard 
work  and  cruelty  of  her  early  life  had  left  its  imprint 
in  lines  of  age.  The  careless,  slovenly  manner  in 
which  she  wore  the  rich  robe,  as  well  as  her  coarse 
features,  easily  proclaimed  her  of  the  lower  class, 
the  coolie  class  of  Korea.  This  colorless  creature, 
known  as  the  “inside  of  Mr.  Kim’s  house,”  had  no 

(163) 


164 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


part  in  the  life  of  her  husband.  She  would  have  been 
the  most  astonished,  the  most  amazed  person  in  the 
world  if  he  had  once  come  to  her  for  advice  or  com- 
fort. Stealthily  Cusagie  stepped  out  onto  the  veran- 
da. She  knew  that  she  was  about  to  disobey  the 
rules  of  the  house.  She  had  been  told  more  than  once 
in  no  uncertain  terms  that,  although  what  she  did 
and  the  manner  in  which  she  spent  her  time  really 
did  not  matter  in  the  least  to  Mr.  Kim,  still  as  the 
mother  of  Mongoonie  and  Moonhe,  the  children 
whom  he  adored,  he  felt  that  it  was  most  unbecoming 
for  her  to  put  herself  on  an  equal  footing  with  the 
servants. 

The  maids  were  busy  in  the  court  below  with  the 
many  household  tasks,  and  Cusagie  stood  with  a 
little  frown  on  her  face  and  watched  this  activity. 
The  rooms  of  the  women’s  quarters  all  opened  into 
this  inner  courtyard,  where  the  machinery  of  the 
domestic  life  was  to  be  seen  in  full  action.  A woman 
known  as  Dragon’s  Mother  just  then  came  into  the 
court  bearing  on  her  head  a huge  tray  heaped  with 
dry  clothes  ready  for  the  ironing  stone.  A great  stone 
mortar  stood  in  the  center  of  the  square  court.  Here 
a strong  Amazon-like  servant  wielded  the  heavy 
pestle  with  mighty  strokes;  she  was  hulling  the  rice 
for  supper.  Another  woman  sat  on  a stone  at  the 
kitchen  entrance  chopping  tidbits  of  meat  and  gar- 
lic that  were  to  be  rolled  inside  rice  dough  for  dump- 
lings. The  frown  on  Cusagie’s  face  deepened.  She 
was  looking  for  something  to  do,  yet  none  of  these 
primitive  and  difficult  tasks  appealed  to  her.  From 
a little  room  across  the  courtyard  came  the  rat-a-tat- 


Soon  her  flying  hands  were  joining  in  the  melodious  rat-a- 
tat-tat 


Cusagie  at  Home 


165 


tat,  rat-a-tat-tat  of  the  unmistakable  ironing  sticks. 
The  Mother  of  Dragon  was  already  at  work. 

“There,  I’ll  help  her.”  With  a sigh  of  pleasure 
Cusagie  slipped  her  feet  into  the  large  sandals  stand- 
ing on  the  stone  steps.  As  she  appeared  at  the  door 
opposite  the  old  woman  looked  up  from  her  work 
with  a friendly  nod,  but  kept  up  the  rythmic  beat 
caused  by  the  rattle  of  her  two  sticks  upon  the  folded 
cloth  on  the  flat  stone  in  front  of  her. 

Here  at  last  was  company  and  something  to  do. 
Cusagie’s  unattractive  face  lost  something  of  its 
dissatisfied  expression  as  she  picked  up  the  extra 
sticks  laying  conveniently  near,  sat  down  on  the 
warm  stone  floor  opposite  Dragon’s  Mother,  and 
folded  her  feet  under  her.  Soon  her  flying  hands 
were  joining  in  the  melodious  rat-a-tat-tat,  rat-a-tat- 
tat,  the  two  keeping  that  perfect  time  which  showed 
much  practice. 

“Lonesome  to-day;  thought  I’d  help  a bit,”  in  a 
sort  of  shamed-faced  way  from  the  mistress  to  ser- 
vant. 

“ Um’mm,”  murmured  the  other  woman  in  word- 
less assent  without  checking  her  splendid  speed. 

“I’m  not  ashamed  to  work.”  The  rat-a-tat-tat 
grew  a bit  faster,  but  no  other  answer  from  Dragon’s 
Mother. 

“The  honorable  master  once  was  poor,  and  then  I 
did  all  the  work  and  was  happy.  Now  I’m  miserable, 
with  not  a thing  to  do  all  the  day  long.”  Another 
inscrutable  grunt  from  the  listener.  This  was  no  new 
story  to  her. 

“What’s  the  use?  Who  can  make  a lady  out  of 
me?  Can  you  make  a ‘silken  purse  out  of  a sow’s 


166  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

ear?  When  I was  a girl  I thought  that  a fine  house, 
silk  clothes,  and  no  work  to  do  made  a lady.  Look 
at  me;  look  at  my  hands!  Am  I a lady?”  She 
spread  her  great  rough  hands  on  her  silk-covered 
knee.  The  other  woman  lowered  her  arms  and  rested 
her  wrists  on  the  edge  of  the  stone  between  them. 
A wise  woman  was  she,  and  she  truly  loved  her  un- 
lovely friend.  This  was  a very  delicate  situation, 
and,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  she  said  nothing. 
Only  her  eyes  expressed  understanding  sympathy. 

11  He  says” — there  was  no  doubt  as  to  whom  she 
referred — “he  says  it  is  not  nice  to  make  myself 
like  one  of  the  servants  and  that  Moonhe  will  be 
ashamed  of  her  mother.  But  I can’t  read;  there  is 
no  place  to  go  to  visit;  I have  no  friends;  I cannot 
embroider  with  these  rough,  red  hands  or  do  fine 
lacework.  What  would  you  do,  O Mother  of  Drag- 
on?” 

The  Mother  of  Young  Dragon,  put  against  the 
problem  in  this  style,  felt  that  she  must  answer. 
She  made  an  excuse  for  a moment  of  quiet  thought 
by  pulling  out  her  tiny  pipe  and  filling  it  with  shred- 
ded tobacco.  When  the  pipe  was  drawing  well  she 
looked  a long  moment  at  the  unhappy  face  of  the 
woman  before  her  and  then  said:  “What  would  I 
do?  Well,  let’s  see.  My  lord  never  beats  or  whips 
you,  does  he?” 

“No,  never.” 

“Well,  that’s  a heap  better  than  you  can  say  of 
most  of  the  men  I know.  You  yourself  told  me  once 
that  your  other  man  beat  you  so  hard  and  so  often 
that  you  at  last  ran  away.”  A nod  of  assent  from 
Cusagie.  “Your  master  gives  you  beautiful  silks, 


Cusagie  at  Home 


167 


and  you  feast  every  day.  You  ought  to  be  thankful 
for  all  these  things,  seems  to  me.”  Then  the  old 
woman  lowered  her  voice  and,  bending  nearer,  said 
in  a deep  whisper:  “But  he  has  a wife  somewhere. 
Where  is  she?” 

“How  should  I know?” 

“Well,  Cho  Yuse  was  a servant  in  his  father’s 
house  when  he  was  a little  boy.  She  was  there  when 
he  was  married  by  the  custom  of  Korea  to  a beautiful 
young  saxie  [bride].  I often  wonder  about  her. 
Do  you  know  anything  about  her  now?” 

Cusagie,  the  small  wife  (concubine)  sadly 
shook  her  head  again.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her 
friend  was  failing  her  to-day.  What  was  all  this 
strange  talk  about,  anyway?  All  that  was  years 
and  years  ago.  What  did  it  matter  about  that? 
Dragon’s  Mother  was  not  answering  her  question  at 
all;  to  the  contrary,  she  was  being  quizzed.  By 
her  rising  color  and  flashing  eyes  she  showed  that 
this  subject  was  painful,  though  fascinating. 

“How  could  I know?  Could  I ask  the  master 
questions  about  his  private  life?  I am  only  a small 
wife,  and  I wouldn’t  long  remain  even  that  if  I were 
too  curious  or  impertinent.” 

“Well.”  The  older  woman  was  thinking  deeply. 
Just  what  should  she  say  to  help  her  friend  and  yet 
not  hurt  too  much?  “I  thought  that  perhaps  you 
might  know  something  without  asking  him.  I,  even 
I,  know  something  about  all  this.” 

“What?  You  know  something!  What  is  it? 
Please,  please  tell  me!”  The  red  hands  were  tightly 
clasped  over  her  knee.  What  was  she  about  to  hear 
now?  After  all,  she  was  only  a loving  woman, 


168  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

though  a very  ignorant,  stupid  one.  She  would  gladly 
have  given  her  life  for  her  husband  or  children. 
She  loved  them  as  much  as  she  was  capable.  Her 
heart  was  full  of  zealous  hatred.  How  she  hated  that 
little  painted  saxie  doll! 

“Tell  me!”  she  repeated  with  a harsh  strained 
note  in  her  rasping  voice. 

“You  won’t  tell?  Not  a soul?’’ 

“No.  Tell  me,  I say!’’ 

“Well,  then  I’ll  tell  you,  because  I think  if  you 
know  you’ll  be  more  careful  and  obedient.  Lately 
you  have  been  very  careless  about  the  master’s 
rules.”  Dragon’s  Mother  frequently  lectured  her 
friend  when  she  deemed  it  necessary.  “You  ask  me 
what  I would  do.  I would  take  no  risks.  Remember 
you  are  only  a small  wife,  though  you  have  had  the 
first  wife’s  place  all  these  years.  The  saxie’s  uncle 
carried  her  away.  The  master  lost  her.  He  didn’t 
know  where  she  was  for  long,  long  years.” 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  a wife  to  be  taken 
away  by  her  relatives  or  guardian  in  case  of  a family 
row.  This  was  not  an  impossible  story  to  Cusagie. 
Both  women  were  now  so  intensely  interested  in  the 
story  that  their  work  was  no  longer  an  excuse.  The 
stone  was  pushed  to  one  side.  The  sticks,  forgotten, 
lay  on  the  fast  drying  cloth,  while  two  heads  bent 
closely  together. 

“The  saxie’s  uncle  was  one  of  those  new-fangled 
Jesus  doctrine  folk.  He  sent  her  to  school,  and  she 
was  taught  all  the  learning  of  the  West.  Now  she  is 
very  beautiful  and  very  wise.  She  is” — 

“Did  he  find  her  again?”  The  dull  mind  of  Cu- 
sagie jumped  ahead  of  the  narrator.  She  saw  at  last 


Cusagie  at  Home 


169 


that  this  might  not  be  old  gossip  of  something  that 
happened  long  ago. 

“Yes.  He  found  her.  They  say  she  is  a perfect 
lady.  She  will  know  how  to  sit  in  her  parlor  and  be 
lady  Kim.” 

“O,  I hate  her;  I hate  her,  I do!  I’ll  kill  herl" 

“Be  careful  now.  Slow!  What  good  would  it  do 
you  to  kill  her?” 

The  room  was  very  quiet  a few  moments.  Then 
Cusagie  spoke  sharply:  “How  do  you  know?  so 
much?  Who  told  you  all  this,  I’d  like  to  know.  I 
don’t  believe  a word  of  it!” 

“All  right.  Believe  it  or  not,  as  you  please.  You’ll 
find  out  soon  enough,  I guess.”  Dragon's  Mother 
took  up  her  neglected  task,  and  soon  the  rat-a-tat-tat, 
rat-a-tat-tat  of  her  sounding  blows  struck  the  stone  so 
hard  that  there  was  no  place  for  quiet  talk. 

Cusagie  made  several  efforts  to  get  further  infor- 
mation, but  to  no  avail.  Finally  she  sighed  and  rose 
to  go. 

Then  the  servant  added  another  word:  “Do  you 
know  why  the  master  took  his  daughter  out  of  the 
school  for  the  Korean  nobility  and  lately  took  her  to 
the  Mission  School?  I myself  heard  him  say  that 
the  Christians  alone  knew  how  to  train  gentlewomen 
as  he  wanted  his  daughter  trained.  Now,  why  do 
you  think  he  did  that?” 

But  Cusagie  had  heard  enough,  and  without  an 
answer  she  hurried  across  the  court  and  into  her  own 
room. 

Moonhe,  the  nine-year-old  daughter  of  Kim  Noch 
Kyung,  was  a bright,  fairylike  child,  much  petted 
and  spoiled  by  every  one  about  the  plaoe.  She  came 


170  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

tripping  in  from  school  the  day  of  Cusagie’s  conver- 
sation with  the  Mother  of  Dragon.  Her  mind  was 
full  of  the  strange  and  wonderful  things  she  had  seen 
and  heard  that  day.  She  stopped  in  the  outer  court, 
looked  toward  her  father’s  sarang,  and  then  went 
straight  for  his  door.  Afraid  of  him?  No,  indeed; 
not  she.  Moonhe  knew  the  real  Kim  Noch  Kyung 
better  than  anyone  else  in  all  the  world,  and  to 
her  he  was  the  best  and  wisest  of  men.  As  was  polite 
and  proper,  she  stopped  on  the  doorstep  and  by  a 
soft  little  cough  announced  her  presence. 

“That’s  my  little  bear.  Enter,”  called  a deep 
voice  from  the  sarang , and  a little  figure  in  vivid 
red  skirt  and  bright  green  jacket  whirled  into  the 
room. 

“Father!  Listen,  father!  O,  I have  so  much  to 
tell  you!” 

“Here  is  my  ear.  Pour  forth  thy  wisdom.” 

With  a playful  smile  he  leaned  forward  and  bent 
down  to  the  little  girl,  who  cuddled  up  close  to  him 
and  began  to  spread  out  her  new  books  before  him. 
Mr.  Kim  fancied  that  in  his  fair  daughter  he  could 
see  the  traits  of  his  beloved  mother.  His  son,  Mon- 
goonie,  seemed  of  the  coarser  clay  of  Cusagie.  He 
was  a sturdy,  independent  lad  of  six  and  altogether 
indifferent  to  the  very  obvious  fact  that  he,  the  son  of 
the  house,  was  not  his  father’s  favorite.  According 
to  all  the  customs  of  the  Orient,  the  son  should  have 
been  the  bright,  important  luminary  of  the  domestic 
sky;  but  not  so  here.  All  the  servants  said  that 
Mongoonie  was  the  image  of  his  mother,  while 
Moonhe  resembled  her  Grandmother  Kim  not  only 
in  her  delicate,  clear-cut  features  but  also  in  her 


Cusagie  at  Home 


171 


love  for  the  classics.  When  very  young  she  had 
known  the  name  of  several  Chinese  characters.  Her 
father  took  great  pleasure  in  teaching  her  the  wise 
sayings  of  the  great  sages;  they  sounded  so  new  from 
the  rosy  lips  of  the  child. 

Mr.  Kim  had  taken  his  daughter  from  the  school 
she  had  attended  and  had  gone  himself  with  her 
to  the  Mission  School  across  the  city,  at  Pon-su-dong. 
Knowing  that  he  would  want  to  see  all  her  new 
books  and  hear  all  about  the  school,  she  spread 
out  her  treasures  before  him. 

“See!  See  here,  father!  We  have  not  only  this, 
and  this,  and  this,  as  we  did  at  the  other  school,’ ’ 
placing  her  Japanese  reader,  Chinese  classic,  and  an 
arithmetic  to  one  side;  “but  here  is  a new  one.  This 
is  the  Christian’s  book.  It  is  the  Bible,  father. 
Every  one  has  to  study  it  at  the  new  school,  but  over 
there  they  told  us  it  was  a very  bad  book.  Is  it, 
father?  Do  you  want  me  to  have  this,  too?”  The 
child’s  great,  soft  eyes  looked  into  his  with  perfect 
confidence  and  love. 

“Lets  see,  baby  mine.”  His  hand  shook  as  he 
took  from  the  child  the  book  he  had  wished  so  much 
to  see  but  which  he  had  been  ashamed  to  buy. 

“Here,  this,  too.  This  is  a songbook.  See?  Isn’t 
it  a pretty  color?  ” And  she  held  up  a little  red  book, 
new  and  bright.  “The  songs  are  just  beautiful  but 
not  like  anything  I ever  heard  before.  I can  sing 
this  one  now.  Hear  me,  this  is  the  way  it  sounds: 

“Jesus  loves  me,  this  I know, 

For  the  Bible  tells  me  so; 

Little  ones  to  Him  belong; 

I am  weak,  but  He  is  strong.” 


172  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

Then  we  do  so  many  nice  funny  things  at  the 
new  school.  We  march  and  sing  and  play.  I love  it. 
But  say,  father;  may  I have  these  books,  too?” 

Mr.  Kim  turned  the  leaves  slowly,  looking  at  the 
pages.  “In  Him  was  life,  and  the  life  was  the  light 
of  men,”  he  read  aloud.  “ I wonder  what  that  means 
and  Who  it’s  talking  about!  Well,  now  run  along 
Baby  Bear,  and  get  something  to  eat.  You  are  always 
hungry  when  you  get  home  from  school.  I’ll  keep 
these  books  until  to-morrow,  and  then  I'll  let  you 
know  what  I decide.” 

Perfectly  satisfied  with  this  decision,  the  little 
girl  flitted  out  of  the  sarang  and  skipped  into  the 
inner  court.  Here  she  met  her  brother  Mongoonie 
with  a bright  new  kite  in  one  hand  and  a big  wedge  of 
rice  cake  in  the  other. 

“Huh,  schoolgirl!”  he  taunted  as  he  ran  past  her 
to  the  outer  court. 

“Yes;  and  some  day  you’ll  be  sorry,  too,  if  you 
don’t  go  to  school  soon!” 

“No  school  for  me!”  said  the  heir  of  the  house,  as 
he  sped  on  his  way  back  to  the  playmates  on  the 
street. 

He  did  not  want  to  go  to  school.  His  mother  was 
as  wax  in  his  hands.  Of  course  he  did  as  he  pleased. 
So  far  his  days  had  been  care  free  and  happy.  He 
played  and  romped  and  enjoyed  life.  Clearly  his 
taste  did  not  run  to  the  books  of  learning  his  sister 
carried.  His  father  would  take  him  in  hand  some 
day;  for  the  present  he  intended  to  enjoy  life  while  he 
could. 

That  night  the  lamp  burned  late  in  the  big  room  on 
the  outside  court.  Within  a man  sat  alone.  In  his 


Cusagie  at  Home 


173 


hand  he  held  a little  black  book.  He  read  and 
thought  and  wondered  about  the  meaning.  There 
was  very  little  that  he  understood,  but  there  was  a 
beauty  and  majesty  about  the  words  that  drew  him. 
During  the  days  that  followed  they  came  back  to 
memory,  these  sweet  strange  words,  and  he  pondered 
them  over  and  over. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Visitors  at  the  House  of  Kim 

ON  the  afternoon  of  a mild  day  in  winter  the 
wealthy  rice  broker,  Kim  Noch  Kyung,  sat  in 
his  sarang.  His  feet  were  folded  under  him  in  the 
true  “lotus  style”  of  Korea.  Account  books  were 
spread  out  before  him  on  the  low  table.  He  smiled 
and  rubbed  his  hands  together  with  glee.  “Very 
good!  Very  good,  indeed!  I started  without  a cent 
to  my  name.  Now  I’m — well,  I’m  a man  worth 
consideration,  at  least.”  He  found  it  very  com- 
forting and  satisfying  to  review  his  career.  He  had 
been  honest  according  to  his  views  of  honesty;  al- 
ways ready  for  a good  bargain,  not  too  scrupulous. 
He  had  been  hard  hit  more  than  once  by  the  greed 
and  dishonesty  of  the  business  world.  The  fine 
ideals  of  his  youth  were  gone.  He  fancied  that  he 
was  rather  a cynic  of  late  and  was  proud  to  call 
himself  a “hard  man.”  His  associates  he  divided 
into  two  classes,  men  whom  he  could  use  and  those 
who  were  trying  to  use  him.  Mr.  Kim’s  moral 
standard  was  not  very  high.  How  could  it  be 
otherwise?  Yet  his  natural  integrity  and  self-re- 
spect kept  him  from  sinking  to  the  depths  that  most 
men  of  his  class  considered  necessary  and  excusable. 
Thus  he  sat  on  the  satin  cushions  in  his  reception 
room,  a successful  though  honest  business  man, 
and  puffed  cigarette  after  cigarette  while  he  thought 
of  past  years  and  planned  the  future. 

A deep  cough  and  a shuffle  of  feet  announced  an 
arrival.  The  merchant  prince  gracefully  arose  and 
(174) 


Visitors  at  the  House  of  Kim 


175 


pushed  open  the  sliding  paper  screens  which  formed 
the  door.  A pleasant  bass  voice  greeted  him: 
“ Peace  unto  you,  friend  Kim.” 

This  was  no  other  than  Pastor  No.  This  was  by 
no  means  the  first  time  that  these  two  had  met. 
The  great-hearted  preacher  really  wanted  to  be  a 
true  friend  to  Mr.  Kim.  But  for  a man  so  good  and 
kind  he  could  be  very  harsh  at  times  with  those  who 
insisted  on  going  on  in  their  evil  ways  against  his 
admonitions.  Certainly  in  his  dealings  with  the. 
sensitive,  high-spirited  Kim,  Pastor  No  had  not  been 
tactful,  to  say  the  least.  They  had  come  to  the 
point  of  battle  more  than  once,  and  the  host  thought 
of  all  this  as  he  ushered  his  guest  into  the  pleasant 
room.  He  would  treat  this  guest  with  courtesy,  but 
at  the  same  time  he  hardened  his  heart  against 
anything  and  everything  that  Pastor  No  might 
suggest.  It  mattered  not  what  his  suggestions  might 
be,  they  were  already  turned  down  before  spoken, 
in  the  mind  of  Kim.  Such  was  the  result  of  harsh- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  well-meaning,  kind-hearted 
man. 

After  the  elaborate  preliminaries  of  greeting  were 
exchanged,  the  host  clapped  his  palms  sharply  to- 
gether. In  answer  to  that  summons  a well-trained 
servant  shortly  after  appeared. 

“Refreshments  for  my  guest,”  ordered  the  host. 

“No  tobacco  or  wine  for  me,”  added  that  gentle- 
man with  a glance  at  the  cigarette  of  the  other. 

“Bring  tea,  then,  with  cakes  and  fruit.”  The 
servant  bowed  very  low  and  withdrew. 

This  was  an  embarrassing  situation  to  Mr.  Kim. 
He  had  nothing  in  common  with  Pastor  No.  He 


176  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

respected  his  guest,  though  he  very  much  disliked 
him.  He  must  entertain  him,  and  yet' what  subject 
would  he  choose  that  was  pleasant?  He  need  not 
have  worried,  however,  for  the  guest  had  something 
to  say;  he  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  saying 
it  and  was  not  in  the  least  bashful  about  taking 
the  conversation  into  his  own  hands. 

“I  am  greatly  pleased  to  hear  that  your  little  girl 
has  entered  the  Mission  School.  That  is  just  splen- 
did! I congratulate  you,  and  I came  to  say  that  I 
hope  that  there  is  a sign  of  deeper  things.” 

“It’s  merely  a sign  of  the  fact  that  I want  my 
daughter  to  learn  music  and  English.  That’s  all,” 
answered  Kim  very  crisply. 

“I  had  hoped  that  you  would  see  your  mistakes, 
that  you  might  be  thinking  of  Christianity  with 
more  favor.” 

The  servant  returned  just  at  this  point,  much  to 
the  host’s  relief.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  impolite,  yet 
he  feared  that  if  he  said  anything  at  all  that  he  would 
surely  say  too  much.  He  therefore  wisely  remained 
discreetly  silent  while  the  manservant  deftly  set  out 
the  tempting  food  before  the  two  men. 

The  subject  being  a delicate  one,  Pastor  No 
thought  that  his  host  was  merely  waiting  for  the 
man  to  withdraw.  The  refreshments  were  con- 
sumed in  silence,  which  is  perfectly  good  etiquette 
in  that  land  where  table  talk  is  neither  expected  nor 
approved.  At  last  the  serving  tray  was  carried  out, 
but  still  Mr.  Kim  sat  quietly.  He  lighted  another 
cigarette  and  absent-mindedly  offering  his  guest  one, 
which  was  sharply  declined. 

Pastor  No  was  seldom  at  a loss  for  words,  but  h^ 


Visitors  at  the  House  of  Kim  177 

saw  that  he  was  making  no  progress.  Had  he  been 
a keen  reader  of  human  nature,  he  might  have 
guessed  the  merchant's  present  state  of  mind.  That 
strong,  self-willed  man  had  reached  the  point  where 
he  saw  the  beauty  in  the  life  and  words  of  Jesus. 
His  little  girl  often  came  in  during  the  evenings  and 
told  him  about  what  she  learned  at  school,  and  in  his 
quiet,  secret  way  he  had  become  a student  of  the 
little  black  Book.  Not  for  all  his  possessions  would 
he  have  confessed  this  to  Pastor  No.  He  was  in  the 
midst  of  a struggle  against  the  claims  of  Jesus  the 
Christ.  Certainly  he  would  admit  none  of  his  in- 
nermost thoughts  and  desires  to  a man  so  antago- 
nistic to  his  every  thought,  as  was  No!  It  is  doubt- 
ful that  he  would  have  opened  his  heart,  at  just  this 
point  in  his  life,  to  even  a loving,  sympathetic 
friend.  The  myriad  questions  in  his  heart  were 
unasked  and  unanswered.  The  two  men  sat  and 
looked  at  each  other  with  eyes  in  which  there  was 
little  of  mutual  understanding.  Pastor  No  was  a 
good  man,  an  earnest  Christian  worker.  He  really 
desired  with  all  his  heart  to  help  this  man,  whom  he 
considered  a wicked,  stubborn  creature.  His  eye 
was  hard  and  unsympathetic,  for  he  thought  of  all 
the  misery  and  suffering  this  selfish  man  was  bring- 
ing to  his  friends  in  the  mountain  village  of  Okchun. 
At  last  he  broke  the  uncomfortable  silence. 

“Let  us  come  to  the  point,”  said  Pastor  No. 
“My  son  is  soon  to  marry  into  the  family  of  Chun 
Tochil,  of  the  village  of  Okchun.”  Kim  Noch 
Kyung  was  listening  very  eagerly  now.  Was  it 
possible  that  Kumokie — no,  impossible!  Aloud  he 
said  nothing,  only  his  burning  eye  questioned  the 
12 


178  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

speaker.  “Mr.  Chun’s  daughter,  Elizabeth,  is  to 
marry  my  oldest  son.  It  is  a very  fitting  match.” 
Kim  Noch  Kyung  heaved  a sigh  of  relief.  He  had 
forgotten,  if  he  had  even  known,  that  there  was 
another  girl,  this  Elizabeth,  in  the  Chun  house- 
hold. He  nodded  his  approval,  and  the  other  con- 
tinued: “So  you  see  I feel  that  in  a way  Kumokie 
also  is  one  of  my  family.  She  is  a very  remarkable 
woman.” 

The  husband  of  the  woman  thus  mentioned  made 
no  reply,  but  there  was  a dangerous  glint  in  his  eye 
as  he  glared  at  his  guest.  This  was  what  he  con- 
sidered a serious  breech  of  good  manners.  In  Korea 
no  male  guest  ever  speaks  of  the  women  of  another 
household,  even  to  ask  about  their  health,  and  Mr. 
Kim  did  not  feel  that  Pastor  No’s  claim  to  relation- 
ship with  the  Chun  family  was  sufficient  to  war- 
rant this  familiarity. 

“I  had  hoped  that  your  heart  was  more  kindly 
disposed  toward  Christianity  and  that  you  would 
be  willing  to  grant  Kumokie’s  earnest  desire  for  the 
divorse  papers,  but” — 

Here  a quick,  sharp  voice  interrupted:  “Your 
hope  was  without  foundation.  I will  do  nothing  of 
the  kind!  How  many  times  must  I tell  you  this?” 

“Surely  you  do  not  understand  what  this  means 
to  her.  You  know  that  such  a small  matter  as  legal 
papers  would  have  been  considered  a useless  for- 
mality by  any  but  a Christian  family.  Your  stub- 
born willfulness  is  blighting  her  fair  young  life. 
She  has  no  chance  as  it  is,  like  other  girls,  for  home 
and  children  of  her  own.  Be  generous.  Your  at- 


Visitors  at  the  House  of  Kim  179 

titude  will  never  help  you  any.  She  would  rather 
die  than  become  your  wife.” 

“She  is  my  wife!” 

“That’s  a lie.” 

Noch  Kyung  was  white  with  wrath.  His  hands 
trembled,  and  the  gleam  of  his  dark  eyes  was  un- 
mistakable. Outwardly  he  remained  the  calm  and 
controlled  gentleman ; inwardly  he  was  burning  with 
a desire  to  kick  this  smug  visitor  out  of  his  door. 

“Is  there  no  hope?  Are  you  still  determined  to 
be  a hard-hearted,  cruel  monster?” 

“There  is  no  need  for  further  discussion,  sir.  I 
have  said  my  say.  A gentleman  of  my  family  does 
not  discuss  his  private  home  matters  with  stran- 
gers.” So  saying,  Mr.  Kim  arose  and  pushed  aside 
the  sliding  door.  With  a lordly  gesture  he  mo- 
tioned toward  the  outer  court. 

“That  is  all.  Good  afternoon,  sir.” 

With  dignity  somewhat  shattered  and  scarcely 
knowing  what  had  happened  to  him,  the  outwitted 
visitor  took  his  hurried  and  unceremonious  depar- 
ture. 

Mr.  Kim  felt  quite  shaken  and  in  need  of  a 
bracer.  At  his  call  an  old  servant,  Cho  Yuse,  who 
had  been  in  the  family  since  Noch  Kyung’s  child- 
hood, answered  the  summons.  In  response  to  his 
master’s  order,  he  hurried  back  as  quickly  as  he 
could  with  the  wine  cup.  Yuse  was  a privileged 
character  about  the  place.  He  was  allowed  to  chat- 
ter and  gossip  as  he  served  Mr.  Kim. 

“Have  you  heard,  my  master,  of  this  most  fear- 
some disease,  a new  and  awful  something  that  has 
the  whole  world  by  the  throat?” 


180  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

“Yes,  I’ve  heard  something  of  it,”  in  an  absent- 
minded  way.  The  master  had  other  things  on  his 
mind  just  then. 

“They  call  it  the  congie-pyung  [influenza].  Thou- 
sands of  people  are  sick  and  dying  all  over  this  city. 
It’s  a queer,  unearthly  plague.  Its  like  was  never 
seen  before,  and  it’s  in  every  country  of  the  whole 
wide  world.  I heard  a man  on  the  street  say” — 
he  lowered  his  voice  and  spoke  in  a ghostly  sort  of 
whisper  to  catch  the  ear  of  his  unattentive  hearer — 
“that  this  ‘flu’  is  a direct  result  of  the  World  War. 
So  many  dead  bodies  were  left  to  decay  and  poison 
the  air  that  the  air  around  the  earth  and  sea  is  all 
rotten.  There  is  now  no  fresh  air  to  breathe,  and  ev- 
ery living  thing  in  all  the  world  must  surely  and 
quickly  die!” 

“O,  rot!  Cho,  do  you  believe  such  stuff?” 

“Well,  I don’t  know;  but  I’m  just  telling  you 
what  a man” — 

“Then  forget  it!  Don’t  we  have  cholera  and 
typhus  and  smallpox  epidemics?  This  is  surely  not 
any  worse  than  these.” 

“Perhaps  not,  sir,  but” — 

“You  are  a silly,  foolish  old  fellow,  Cho.  Stop 
your  nonsense  now  and  get  to  work!”  He  dis- 
missed the  old  man  with  a smile  of  ridicule,  but  be- 
fore many  days  he  had  cause  to  remember  those 
words. 

The  terrible  influenza,  like  a devastating  hurri- 
cane, swept  the  country.  The  grim  reaper,  Death, 
was  busy  with  his  harvest.  There  was  not  a house, 
probably,  in  all  the  land  that  was  not  stricken.  In 
many  of  the  homes  there  were  none  to  care  for  the 


Visitors  at  the  House  of  Kim 


181 


sick  and  dying.  Some  homes  were  utterly  depopu- 
lated and  empty.  It  was  true  in  the  Orient,  as  in 
the  lands  of  the  West,  that  the  coffins  could  not  be 
made  rapidly  enough  to  supply  the  demand.  Heaps 
of  unburied  dead  were  carried  without  the  gates  to 
be  cremated. 

Kindly,  garrulous  old  Cho  was  the  first  to  be 
stricken  in  Kim  Noch  Kyung’s  household.  It  was 
not  many  days  before  the  plague  struck  hard,  and 
there  were  only  one  or  two  left  who  were  able  to 
creep  about  and  attend  to  the  most  urgent  needs 
of  others.  Noch  Kyung  himself  was  near  death’s 
door,  and  during  that  time  he  knew  little  of  what 
was  going  on.  He  did  not  know  that  two  narrow 
pine  boxes  were  carried  quietly  past  his  door.  One 
box  was  long,  and  in  it  the  body  of  a tired  wom- 
an was  carried  to  her  last  resting  place;  the  other 
contained  all  that  was  earthly  of  a little  child. 

At  last,  when  the  master  of  the  house  was  able  to 
notice  affairs  of  the  home  again,  he  questioned  the 
fate  of  the  others.  The  man  who  attended  him 
tried  to  avoid  his  questions  and  succeeded  so  poorly 
that  he  aroused  Mr.  Kim’s  suspicions. 

“Tell  me  the  truth.  You  are  hiding  something.” 
“Please,  my  master,  don’t  worry  or  excite  your- 
self. You  are  still  very  ill,  and  you  must  not  ” — 
“Tell  me,  I say.  What  of  my  children?” 

“Alas!  alas!  the  day.  Must  I be  the  one  to  break 
your  heart?” 

“I’ll  break  your  head  if  you  don’t  stop  that  fool- 
ishness and  tell  me  what  you  mean!” 

“Alas!  alas!  she  is  dead!” 

“Who  is  dead?” 


182  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

“Well,  Cusagie  is  dead.” 

“Who  else?” 

“Woe,  woe  is  me  that  I should  be  the  one  to  have 
to  tell  you  that  your  daughter  Moonhe  is  dead! 
Woe!  woe!”  moaned  the  man,  beating  his  breast  in 
true  Oriental  fashion. 

“Moonhe?  O,  my  dear  child!” 

The  agonized  voice  of  the  father  lifted  in  a cry  of 
pain,  then,  white-faced,  he  lay  back  on  his  pillow. 
All  that  day  he  lay  like  one  dead.  The  terrified  serv- 
ant, fearing  that  he  had  been  the  unwitting  means  of 
killing  his  beloved  master,  slipped  quietly  about  the 
room,  and  the  tears  rained  down  his  face. 

Kim  Noch  Kyung  was  not  dead  nor  sleeping,  but 
suffering  and  thinking.  Moonhe,  the  only  thing  in 
the  wide  world  that  really  loved  or  understood  him, 
was  gone,  and  alone  and  silently  the  heartbroken 
father  mourned  for  his  child. 

As  he  lay  on  his  bed  of  pain  the  thought  came  to 
him  of  the  beautiful  sayings  in  the  little  Book  that 
Moonhe  had  loved  so  well.  How  he  wished  that  he 
knew  that  the  Bible  was  true!  What  a comfort  it 
would  be  to  know  that  he  would  meet  that  sweet 
child  again  in  a purer,  better  life! 

The  next  day  Mr.  Kim  was  much  better  and 
stronger.  He  called  Cho  to  him  and  said:  “Go 
into  my  Moonhe’s  room  and  look  among  her  books. 
There  you  will  find  a little  black  Book  tied  together 

with  a little  red  book  in  a pogaggie . Bring  them  to 

^ _ » 
me* 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 

THE  pride  of  Okchun  over  the  achievements 
and  honors  of  Kumokie  and  Elizabeth  was 
beautiful  and  became  a means  of  encouragement  to 
other  parents  in  their  efforts  to  educate  their  daugh- 
ters. 

For  days  before  the  return  of  the  two  girls  this 
was  the  chief  topic  of  conversation  in  the  village, 
and  all  were  on  the  alert  to  see  what  changes  had 
been  wrought  in  these  who  were  their  joy  and  crown. 
On  the  day  of  their  return  many  friends,  neighbors, 
and  former  companions  at  Maria’s  school  came  out 
to  meet  them. 

As  is  the  happy  custom  in  Korea,  they  went  in 
a crowd  about  ten  li  down  the  valley,  and  there 
awaited  the  travelers. 

During  the  days  that  followed  the  girls’  return 
little  escaped  the  eyes  that  watched  most  carefully 
every  action  and  word  of  these  old  friends  who  now 
seemed  so  different  and  in  whom  they  looked  for 
some  other  changes  even  more  radical.  The  attitude 
of  the  girls  toward  their  parents;  whether  or  not 
they  were  helpful  in  the  home;  whether  they  would  be 
selfish  and  proud  of  their  success ; whether  or  not  they 
would  add  anything  of  interest  and  inspiration  to  the 
Sunday  school  and  Church  services — in  all  this 
Okchun  became  a self-constituted  committee  of  ob- 
servation. No  critical  spirit,  not  that.  No;  they 
were  merely  waiting  anxiously  to  see  whether  or  not 

(183) 


184  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

a diploma  in  the  hands  of  a Korean  girl  would  turn 
her  head. 

There  had  not  been  lacking  those  who  from  the 
start  were  pessimistic  and  who  did  not  hesitate  to 
say  that  they  expected  nothing  good  from  such  a 
course.  As  each  returning  vacation  proved  the  girls 
the  same  sweet,  unspoiled  daughters,  they  still 
shook  their  heads. 

“Too  soon  yet  to  know.  Just  wait  until  they  re- 
turn with  their  diplomas  and  see  if  they  eat  proud 
minds  then.” 

On  the  other  hand,  there  were  those  who  pointed 
to  Maria  as  proof  sufficient  to  refute  the  argument: 
“Just  look  at  Maria.  Hasn’t  she  more  book  knowl- 
edge than  all  the  countryside  put  together?  Yes. 
And  who  would  hesitate  to  say  that  she  is  without 
doubt  the  most-beloved  woman  we  know?” 

But  the  other  critics  continued  sadly  to  shake 
their  heads:  “Could  we  expect  anyone  else  to  be 
like  Maria?” 

The  girls,  unconscious  of  all  this  talk,  glowing 
and  happy,  told  their  friends  of  all  the  things 
which  had  happened  to  them.  Not  knowing 
these  thoughts  and  fears,  they  were  natural  and  un- 
affected in  their  relationships  with  the  old  friends 
and  never  even  noticed'  the  slight  embarrassment 
which  marked  the  first  few  days 

For  some  months  Elizabeth  had  been  betrothed 
to  Lung  Que  the  son  of  their  old  friend,  Pastor  No. 
This  was  a fine  young  man,  a successful  teacher  in 
one  of  the  largest  Mission  Schools,  of  splendid  charac- 
ter, and  making  a name  for  himself  in  the  life  which 
he  had  chosen.  They  had  known  each  other  from 


A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 


185 


childhood,  and  there  existed  between  them  that 
mutual  admiration  and  esteem  which  is  as  yet  rare 
in  the  Orient  between  man  and  woman.  Although 
one  page  of  history  was  turned  and  her  school  days 
ended,  Elizabeth  had  no  doubt  that  life  held  many 
beautiful  and  happy  things  for  her  and  looked  for- 
ward with  joyous  anticipation  to  the  days  to  come. 
To  Kumokie  there  were  trepidation  and  hesitation, 
shrinking  from  the  suffering  which  she  knew  lay  be- 
fore her.  What  was  yet  sealed  up  in  that  mysterious 
Book  of  Life?  She  longed  to  know  and  yet  trembled 
with  fear  to  approach  and  read. 

The  days  following  the  visit  of  Noch  Kyung  to 
the  school  she  had  lived  in  constant  dread  that  he 
would  return  or  send  some  message  to  her.  She  did 
not  know  what  to  look  for,  and  this  uncertainty 
made  her  restless.  She  had  no  doubt  that  he  intend- 
ed, and  was  fully  able,  to  carry  out  his  threat.  She 
underestimated  neither  his  determination  nor  his 
ability,  but  she  had  no  idea  of  the  length  to  which 
his  patience  would  carry  him.  As  the  months 
passed  and  there  was  no  evidence  of  active  hostility, 
she  could  not  understand.  She  never  dreamed  of 
the  real  subtlety  with  which  he  was  silently  but 
surely  weaving  about  her  a strengthening  warp  in 
the  web  of  the  bonds  which  held  her  to  him.  For  a 
long  time  she  was  startled  and  frightened  by  each 
stranger  who  appeared.  Every  time  the  postman 
came  she  felt  that  chill  clutch  of  fear  until  the  let- 
ters were  distributed  and  she  was  certain  that  there 
was  no  word  from  Noch  Kyung.  She  grew  more 
anxious  and  nervous  waiting  for  the  thing,  she  knew 
not  what,  which  was  awaiting  her.  Our  fears  are 


186  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

always  more  dread  inspired  when  we  see  before  us 
some  mysterious,  dark  menace  yet  cannot  discern 
the  nature  of  the  harm  threatened. 

Uncle  Tochil  had  made  investigations  into  the 
law,  and,  being  at  last  convinced  that  for  the  pres- 
ent there  was  nothing  that  he  could  do,  he  main- 
tained his  optimistic  hope  that  Noch  Kyung,  when 
he  realized  the  futility  of  his  hopes,  would  finally 
consent  to  the  proper  legal  forms. 

After  many  weary,  anxious  days,  Kumokie,  too, 
was  satisfied  that  he  had  only  spoken  in  his  rage 
and  that  when  he  considered  the  matter  more 
carefully  he  had  come  to  the  sensible  conclusion 
that  he  did  not  want  an  unwilling  bride.  The  long, 
continued  silence  confirmed  this  belief,  and  the  last 
year  in  school  was  much  less  perturbed,  though  her 
mind  was  frequently  agitated  with  fears.  Some- 
times at  night,  as  she  tossed  restlessly  from  side  to 
side,  she  asked  herself  the  questions  which  she  most 
feared  to  answer.  After  all,  was  it  the  fact  that  he 
would  not  divorce  her  which  disturbed  her  peace  of 
mind?  Had  she  not  long  ago  decided  that  she  did 
not  want  the  thing  they  called  a divorce?  A torn 
piece  of  paper,  what  did  that  matter?  Not  a whit! 
Hundreds  of  times  in  her  mind  had  she  done  over 
again  that  memorable  conversation.  She  could 
recall  every  word  he  had  spoken,  every  tone,  every 
glance.  Would  he,  indeed,  claim  her  again?  Did 
she  not  long  and  hope  he  would  do  this  very  thing 
even  while  she  struggled  against  it?  Regardless  of 
what  she  knew  to  be  right,  her  loving,  human  heart 
spoke  for  him  more  eloquently  than  any  word  of 
his.  Perhaps  he  had  gone  forever!  Would  she  ever 


A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 


187 


see  him  again?  Over  and  over  again  she  asked  her- 
self turbulent  questions.  Round  and  round  in  a 
circle  spun  her  thoughts  until  she  grew  dizzy  and 
weary  with  thinking. 

During  these  last  two  years  in  school  the  un- 
expected kindness  and  the  financial  aid  from  Grand- 
father Ye  was  the  means  of  relief  to  Uncle  Tochil 
and  of  providing  many  little  necessities  and  luxu- 
ries which  before  had  been  beyond  the  reach  of 
Kumokie  and  Elizabeth. 

Now  school  days  were  over.  The  sweet  girl 
graduates  were  back  home  again  in  the  dear  old 
village  and  were  the  pride  and  life  of  the  fond  friends 
there.  Under  the  protecting  love  of  home  even 
Kumokie  was  beginning  to  feel  once  more  the  thrill 
and  joy  of  living  and  serving.  Maria’s  faithful 
eyes  searched  the  dear  face  to  know  the  true  state 
of  her  heart,  but  the  calm  exterior  gave  little  hint 
of  the  storms  which  sometimes  raged  within.  That 
the  girl  needed  comfort  and  perhaps  advice  she 
well  knew.  Kumokie  was  no  longer  a child,  but  a 
woman.  No  matter  how  much  her  friends  might 
love  and  wish  to  shield  her  from  danger  and  tempta- 
tion, there  was  no  fortress,  save  that  erected  in  her 
own  heart,  which  could  protect  her  in  this  time  of 
need. 

The  opportunity  to  speak  to  her  came  one  after- 
noon as  the  two  sat  alone  under  the  old  nootie  tree. 
The  work  of  the  house  was  neatly  done.  The  sun 
of  the  long  summer  afternoon  was  ablaze  on  the  moun- 
tains and  the  distant  valley,  and  the  cool  shade  of  the 
friendly  tree  was  refreshing.  This  was  the  most 
delightful  and  quiet  spot  about  the  home.  Maria 


188  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

lifted  her  eyes  from  the  new  lace  stitch  she  was 
learning  with  the  aid  of  the  accomplished  Kumokie. 

“My  daughter,”  said  Maria  with  a look  of  com- 
passion and  tenderness,  “it  is  hard  for  me  to  speak 
to  you  on  the  subject  which  I know  is  so  painful  to 
you.  But  we  know  not  what  a day  may  bring  forth, 
and  you  may  need  a true  friend  to  advise  and  com- 
fort you.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  the  look  of  sor- 
row and  loneliness  which  comes  to  your  eyes  when 
you  think  there  is  no  one  noticing  you.  You  never 
speak  of  your  life  in  Saemal,  though,  of  course,  I 
know  about  it.  You  never  speak  of  the  things 
which  you  think  and  feel  now.  But  I believe  if  you 
would  open  your  heart  and  tell  the  one  who  has 
tried  faithfully  to  be  a mother  to  you,  if  you  could 
tell  me  about  these  things,  it  might  ease  the  pain 
and  perhaps  make  the  way  seem  plainer.” 

She  took  up  her  work  again,  the  needle  flashing 
as  she  bent  her  face  above  the  delicate  fabric  in  her 
hands.  Kumokie,  however,  laid  aside  her  embroid- 
ery. The  bright  color  flooded  her  usually  pale  face, 
and  her  eyes  sought  the  face  of  this  friend  whom 
she  knew  to  be  wise  and  good  and  so  able  to  under- 
stand. But  she  did  not  answer,  and  Maria  took  up 
her  thread  of  thought. 

“You  have  a hard  fight  before  you.  I do  not  be- 
lieve that  the  determined  young  man  has  so  easily 
given  up  his  demands,  and  I think  it  most  likely 
that  we  will  hear  something  more  from  him  before 
many  days.  In  the  meanwhile  you  must  be  sure 
of  your  own  heart.  Your  line  of  action  must  be 
decided.  Those  even  who  love  you  most  are  help- 
less in  this  time  of  trial.  You  must  know  the  thing 


A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 


189 


which  is  right  for  you  to  do;  and  if  you  have  not 
the  strength  to  abide  by  that,  then  no  one  else  can 
help  you.” 

“O,  what  shall  I do?  I hate  him!  Yes,  I do!  I 
hate  him!  He  has  made  my  life  miserable  since  I 
was  a little  thing.  He  went  away  and  left  me  with- 
out a care  as  to  whatsoever  sad  fate  might  await  me 
— went  away  forever.  After  you  had  taken  me  and 
helped  me  to  a higher  life,  educated  me,  loved  me  as 
I never  knew  love  before,  then  he  comes  back  to  do 
that  which  will  ruin  my  life  and  my  happiness. 
Yes,  I hate  him!” 

The  vehemence  with  which  she  made  this  dec- 
laration did  not  deceive  the  wise  woman  beside  her. 
Did  she  not  know  that  the  pain  of  a woman  scorned 
was  apt  to  bring  just  such  outbreaks?  Maria’s  life 
had  been  ever  shielded  from  evil  things  without  or 
within.  Her  home  was  almost  ideal  so  far  as  the 
benedictions  of  love  were  concerned.  About  her 
were  loving  children  and  the  devoted  husband  whose 
care  was  always  to  keep  her  from  the  bitter  and 
rough  experiences  of  life.  How,  then,  did  she  know 
how  to  read  the  heart  of  this  other  woman  whose 
story  was  so  different  from  her  own?  Whence 
comes  woman’s  insight — call  it  intuition  or  what- 
soever you  will — by  means  of  which  she  is  able  to 
discern  the  mind  of  another  without  reasoning  and 
without  experience  of  a like  nature?  Perhaps  it 
comes  from  a veiled  introspection,  an  unconscious 
knowledge  of  her  own  heart  and  of  what  she  her- 
self might  be  capable  under  like  circumstances.  Is 
it  this  cognizance  that  each  human  heart  has  of  its 
own  possibilities  which  gives  this  finer  understand- 


190  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

ing  of  another’s  actions  and  words?  Such  intuition 
on  Maria’s  part  gave  her  a comprehending  sympa- 
thy for  the  anguish  of  Kumokie,  and  in  consequence 
she  could  and  did  feel  with  her  in  kind,  if  not  in 
degree,  the  pain  of  her  situation. 

Her  cheeks  flushed  and  eyes  sparkling,  the  girl 
continued:  “Do  you  think  that  I could  have  lived 
with  you  all  these  many  years  and  have  learned 
from  you  the  things  you  have  taught  me  concern- 
ing God  and  life  and  yet  not  know  my  duty,  not 
know  what  is  right  in  a matter  of  this  kind?  If  I 
should  fall  into  this  temptation,  would  it  not  bring 
shame  and  sorrow  to  you?  I must  think  not  only 
of  my  duty  to  God  and  to  my  own  soul,  but  to  you 
also  who  have  been  more  than  earthly  father  and 
mother  to  the  lonely  orphan  girl.’’ 

“Yes;  I am  confident,  Kumokie,  that  you  know 
the  right  from  the  wrong,  and  I believe  also  that 
you  have  no  other  desire  or  purpose  than  to  do  the 
honorable  thing.  I foresee,  however,  that  there  is 
a trial  more  tempestuous  than  you  yourself  as  yet 
can  understand.  And  when  that  day  comes  you 
will  not  be  able  to  stand  alone.  No  earthly  friend, 
no  matter  how  much  they  love  you  nor  how  greatly 
their  hearts  may  yearn  over  you,  will  be  able  to 
help  you.  There  is  only  One  on  whom  you  can  de- 
pend for  help,  for  your  own  heart  is  your  worst 
enemy.” 

Kumokie  looked  in  amazement  at  her  friend. 
She  knew  that  Maria  would  understand,  and  yet 
this  expression  of  what  she  herself  had  realized  was 
almost  uncanny. 

“Yes,  I know  that  what  you  say  is  true.  But 


A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 


191 


there  is  only  one  thing  in  earth  or  under  the  earth 
of  which  I am  afraid — that  is  sin.  As  long  as  my 
heart  is  pure  and  clean,  I will  trust  in  God  to  de- 
liver me  from  sin  and  from  temptations  too  strong 
for  me  to  bear.  ’ * 

“I  am  glad  that  you  recognize  your  danger.  I 
had  feared  that  you  were  still  so  much  of  a child 
that  you  would  fail  to  see  where  the  real  trial  would 
come.  I have  heard  that  this  boy  was  kind  to  you 
in  those  days  at  Saemal.  ” 

What  memories  came  trooping  back  at  this  sim- 
ple question!  Again  she  was  in  the  big  thatched 
house  on  the  hill  and  trembled  with  terror  before  the 
fierce  anger  of  old  man  Ye.  Once  again,  as  many 
times  in  memory,  she  stood  before  that  cruel  judge 
in  the  little  hut  by  the  beach;  her  quick  feet  sped 
noiselessly  toward  the  outlook  where  she  was  sure 
to  find  Noch  Kyung — in  all  these  dark  places  there 
was  always  one  bright  ray,  one  person  besides  the 
frail  little  mother  who  was  never  cruel  to  the  little 
child. 

As  Kumokie  still  did  not  answer,  but  kept  that 
far-away  gaze  on  the  distant  valley,  Maria  softly 
asked  again:  “Was  Noch  Kyung  not  kind  to  little 
Kumokie?” 

With  a start  she  brought  her  roving  mind  back 
from  those  long-distant  days  to  the  present.  Slowly 
and  carefully  she  answered:  “He  was  never  unkind 
to  me.” 

“But  he  long  ago  forgot  and  cast  you  away  and 
took  another  woman  for  his  wife,  and  before  God, 
if  not  before  all  men,  she  is  his  only  lawful  wife. 


192  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

If  you  should  go  to  him  now,  it  is  you  who  would 
be  in  reality  the  concubine.” 

There  was  a slight  note  of  indignation  in  her 
voice  as  she  replied:  “Have  I no  knowledge  of  this 
elementary  truth?” 

“I  am  only  reviewing,  in  my  own  way,  the  pres- 
ent status  of  the  case.  We  must  both  understand 
the  crisis  and  what  is  involved.” 

“The  subject  is  so  painful  to  me.  There  is  no 
need  now  to  talk  of  it  more,  surely.  I have  no  other 
idea  than  this,  and,  although  I thank  you  with  all 
my  heart  for  your  sympathy,  still  I believe  that  it 
is  all  past  now.  I wish  to  forget  those  sad  things 
and  to  remember  only  these  latter,  sweeter  days.” 

There  was  a gleam,  half  of  pity,  half  of  sorrow,  in 
the  long  look  which  Maria  gave  the  young  girl.  She 
watched  with  soul-deep  longing  the  poise  of  the 
flowerlike  head,  the  childish  set  of  the  pouting,  red 
lips,  the  clear,  starlike  gleam  of  her  dusky  eyes.  She 
was  so  adorably  unconscious  of  self,  and  the  older 
woman  knew  that  she  must  tell  her  that  which  must 
somehow  change  the  present  even  tenor  of  her  way, 
that  which  would  perhaps  bring  separation  and  sor- 
row to  them  both.  Just  what  possibilities  lurked 
in  the  future  unknown,  she  dared  not  even  guess. 
For  a long  moment  the  two  looked  at  each  other. 
Kumokie’s  lips  parted  in  a faint,  wistful  smile,  for 
there  was  that  in  her  friend’s  steady,  sorrowful  gaze 
which  made  her  uneasy. 

“The  time  has  come,  beloved,  when  you  will  need 
all  the  strength  of  a determined  will  and  help  di- 
vine to  enable  you  to  keep  your  feet  set  in  the  right 
path.” 


A Sweet  Girl  Graduate 


193 


A long  tendril  of  glossy,  black  hair  fell  across 
Kumokie’s  face.  Her  eyes  were  steady  and  inquir- 
ing, but  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  panting. 

“ Maria,”  she  commanded  sharply,  “what  are 
you  saying?  What  do  you  mean?  Tell  me  what  has 
happened.” 

They  faced  each  other  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
Kumokie  raised  one  hand  with  a mechanical  ges- 
ture to  brush  back  the  stray  tendril  of  hair,  but  her 
wistful,  frightened  gaze  did  not  leave  the  face  of  her 
friend. 

“I  am  no  longer  a baby.  Tell  me  what  has  hap- 
pened. Do  not  try  to  be  tactful  and  careful.  I 
want  the  truth  and  quickly!” 

“Noch  Kyung  has  written  to  your  uncle,”  said 
she  quickly  and  untied  the  string  of  her  chumanie 
(purselike  bag)  and  drew  from  it  the  letter.  “Here; 
you  may  read  it  for  yourself.  He  says  that  it  was  he 
who  supplied  the  money  which  your  grandfather 
has  been  sending  to  help  you  these  past  two  years; 
that  this  binds  you  to  him  more  securely  in  the  eyes  of 
the  law;  that  he  has  waited  patiently  until  now,  but 
that  shortly  he  will  come  to  claim  you  as  his  wife.” 

Something  caught  in  her  throat,  seemed  to  choke 
her,  weakened  her  knees,  so  that  for  a moment  she 
thought  she  was  going  to  faint.  But  still  Kumokie 
said  nothing.  The  red,  half-parted  lips  were  those 
of  a child,  but  the  dark,  anxious  eves  were  those  of  a 
proud  woman. 

13 


CHAPTER  XVIII  * 

Love  or  Duty? 

KUMOKIE  found  herself  filled  with  the  spirit  of 
restlessness.  Her  customary  even  calmness  of 
disposition  was  gone,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  happy, 
active  life  about  her  she  led  a brooding,  solitary  life. 
Into  the  fortress  of  her  confidence  she  admitted  not 
even  those  friends  who  loved  her.  She  seemed  to 
have  withdrawn  herself  unobtrusively  and  silently 
to  a retreat  far  removed  from  those  about  her.  She 
wandered  and  fluttered  from  one  household  task  to 
another  without  completing  any  one  detail  of  the 
work.  Out  of  the  present  her  mind  was  always 
escaping  to  other  scenes  and  to  the  possible  future. 
But  a few  days  before  she  had  been  absorbed  in 
needs  and  happiness  of  the  quiet  household.  Now 
she  had  no  real  part  in  it. 

Often  she  stood  quietly,  her  eyes  fixed  on  some- 
thing far  distant,  her  mind  and  heart  on  some 
vague,  misty  dream,  which  so  chained  her  will  that 
their  bonds,  though  firm,  were  soft  and  beautiful. 
She  had  no  strength  and  no  desire  to  break  away 
from  the  sweetness  of  these  reveries.  Sometimes 
she  took  from  her  chest  a much-cherished  treasure — 
a boy’s  silken  vest,  old  and  faded,  much  frayed,  and 
with  spots  as  from  tears.  Then  she  could,  un- 
noticed, steal  away  to  the  shade  of  the  old  nootie 
tree  and  dream,  dream  on,  vaguely,  sweetly  dream. 
She  wanted  nothing  so  much  as  to  dream  on  and  let 
her  mind  drift  into  the  beautiful  clouds  of  that 
dreamland  called  “What  Might  Have  Been.” 
(194) 


Love  or  Duty? 


195 


Then  suddenly,  realizing  that  this  was  just  the 
danger  of  which  Maria  had  tried  to  warn  her,  that 
she  must  not  indulge  these  fancies  if  she  wished  to 
be  victorious  in  her  fight,  she  took  this  state  of  mind 
much  to  heart  and  fought  it  with  all  her  strength. 
Then  inexorably  she  held  herself  to  the  tasks  she  found 
to  do.  Stern,  set  lines  gathered  from  day  to  day 
about  the  sweet  mouth;  the  dusky  eyes  had  a look 
that  was  almost  haggard  from  the  nights  of  sleepless 
struggle.  By  an  effort  that  was  superhuman  she 
succeeded  at  last  in  applying  herself  to  the  life  about 
her,  but  the  effort  left  her  weak  and  shaken.  The 
thing  which  would  possess  her  soul  must  be  put 
aside.  She  dared  no  longer  stand  and  face  the 
radiance  until  she  could  control  her  own  heart  and 
will.  In  the  midst  of  her  agony,  as  she  struggled 
with  her  desire  to  seize  the  happiness  of  earth  which 
was  so  near,  she  realized  that  the  prize  which 
throughout  her  childhood  days  had  seemed  remote, 
impossible,  had  now  come  to  her,  was  pressing  itself 
upon  her  acceptance,  and  yet  that  she  must  hold 
back,  must  send  him  away  again ; she  must  not  even 
give  a sign  that  she  cared.  She  dared  not  look 
again  through  the  misty  dreams  into  the  future  if 
she  was  to  meet  and  conquer  the  present.  She 
searched  eagerly,  humbly  through  the  deeps  of  her 
agonized  spirit  and  found  there  nothing  of  strength 
to  comfort.  In  her  own  heart  there  was  only  that 
which  had  grown  with  the  years  until  it  would  over- 
come her,  that  which  would,  if  allowed,  sweep  over 
her  and  leave  her  passion  racked.  Ah,  but  dear  God, 
the  beauty  of  that  dream!  The  sweetness  of  it! 
Those  dreams! 


196  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

Maria  watched  her  with  a deep  understanding 
of  her  moods  and  with  anxious  longing  to  say  some 
word,  to  do  something  to  help,  in  however  weak  a 
way,  to  show  her  the  path  for  those  tender  feet. 
But  she  was  a wise  woman,  and  well  she  knew  that 
this  was  not  the  time  to  speak,  that  this  was  Ku- 
mokie’s  battle,  and  that  she  alone  could  fight  and 
win.  The  moment  of  her  trial  had  come,  and  she 
must  meet  it — meet  it  alone  with  her  God.  Uncle 
Tochil,  who  was  generally  so  placid  and  optimistic 
in  his  views,  was  greatly  disturbed  and  constantly 
urged  Maria  to  speak  again  to  the  girl. 

“Don’t  you  see  that  she  needs  you?  Go,  Maria, 
and  speak  to  the  child.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see 
her  suffer  so,  but  I can  think  of  nothing  to  comfort 
her.  Surely  you  know  what  to  say.  You  are  always 
so  wise  and  have  always  the  right  word  for  the  need. 
I should  be  like  a huge,  awkward  ox  in  a dainty  rose 
garden;  I would  only  bring  havoc  and  ruin.”  To 
all  his  words  she  sadly  shook  her  head. 

“No,  the  time  has  not  yet  come.  Be  patient;  she 
will  come  through  all  right.  The  best  and  only  help 
you  can  now  render  her  is  to  pray.  When  you  feel 
that  you  must  speak  to  her,  that  something  must  be 
said,  but  you  know  not  what,  that  comfort  must  be 
given  when  you  have  none  to  offer,  do  not  forget 
the  Comforter!  What  can  I say  to  that  broken- 
hearted, lonely  child?  Nothing.  But  there  is  One 
who  can  calm  the  storm  there  even  as  He  did  on 
Galilee.  Ask  Him  to  speak  the  words  that  you  fain 
would  have  spoken.” 

After  this  gentle  reprimand  he  stole  away  to  the 
hill;  and  there,  under  the  glorious  radiance  of  the 


Love  or  Duty ? 


197 


afternoon,  he  met  his  Lord  and  talked  with  him 
as  he  would  to  his  dearest  friend.  When  he  returned 
to  the  house,  his  wife  rejoiced  to  see  that  he  was 
again  his  usual  placid  self,  serene  and  sure.  After 
that,  although  his  heart  was  troubled  by  the  drawn 
look  of  suffering  on  the  face  of  Kumokie,  he  was  con- 
fident of  the  outcome  and  did  not  speak  to  Maria 
again  about  it.  This  time  of  waiting  and  uncertainty 
was  so  hard.  What  would  Noch  Kyung  do?  When 
would  he  come?  These  were  the  questions  in  the 
heart,  if  not  on  the  tongue,  of  each.  But  the  days 
slowly  passed  with  no  further  signs  from  him,  and 
each  day  but  added  to  the  spirit  of  restless  anguish 
and  uncertainty  which  filled  Kumokie’s  heart.  The 
present  was  a terrible  blankness,  and  for  the  future 
she  saw  only  loneliness  and  despair. 

The  Sabbath  came  around,  and  so  black  was  the 
darkness  which  filled  her  heart  that  when  the  other 
members  of  the  household  left  the  house  at  the  hour 
of  service  she  felt  that  she  could  not  face  the  friends 
at  the  meetinghouse.  The  look  of  sympathy  that 
some  would  wear,  the  curious  stare  of  others,  nor  yet 
the  critical  air  of  the  few  who  were  just  waiting  to 
say:  “There,  I told  you  so;  the  little  saint  is  no  bet- 
ter than  any  other  sinner!”  She  did  not  go  to  serv- 
ice, but  she  found  her  way  up  among  the  pines  which 
clustered  along  the  ridge  overlooking  the  little 
brown  church  in  the  valley.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
urgent  need  that  drove  her  to  this  place  where  so 
many  times  before  she  had  held  sweetest  com- 
munion with  her  Lord.  Maybe  it  was  an  unreal- 
ized desire  to  be  near  her  dearest  earthly  friends  or 
the  Spirit  himself  leading  her  wayward  feet.  What- 


198 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


ever  it  may  have  been,  she  felt  a sense  of  nearness 
and  fellowship  with  those  who  worshiped  within 
the  meetinghouse  while  she  sat  on  the  ridge  above, 
hidden  by  the  pines.  She  was  too  far  away  to  hear 
the  words  that  were  spoken,  but  the  hymn  reached 
her  distinctly.  How  well  she  knew  the  words 
of  that  dear  old  song!  The  light  breeze  swept 
up  the  valley  and  carried  the  words  to  her  ear,  the 
inspired  words,  so  simple,  but  so  full  of  vital  mean- 
ing that  they  were  to  bring  her  the  very  message  for 
which  her  soul  longed. 

“Anywhere  with  Jesus  I can  safely  go, 

Anywhere  with  Jesus  in  this  world  below; 

Anywhere  without  Him,  dearest  joys  would  fade; 
Anywhere  with  Jesus,  I am  not  afraid.” 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  music  the  girl  had  started 
and  caught  her  breath.  Who  has  not  felt  the  won- 
derful power  of  inspired  song?  Have  you  not  at 
some  time  been  lifted  out  of  self  and  time  and  sense 
by  the  holy  strains  when  the  music  is  from  the  throne 
of  the  Divine?  It  offers  to  the  sad  heart  an  irre- 
sistible appeal,  and  God  speaks  to  his  own  through 
the  tender  pleading  of  music. 

Louder,  fuller  swelled  the  chorus  of  the  little  group 
who  were  not  afraid  with  Jesus  anywhere  to  go. 
These  were  not  trained  voices.  To  many  a delicate 
ear  the  harshness  of  the  notes,  the  lack  of  harmony, 
and  the  many  discords  would  have  grated  so  much 
that  these  would  have  been  the  only  things  note- 
worthy about  the  singing  of  that  mountain  congre- 
gation. Most  of  these  people  had  never  tried  to 
sing  a tune  until  a few  short  years  ago.  Kumokie, 


Lave  or  Duty? 


199 


too,  many  times,  had  felt  the  rudeness  of  the  sing- 
ing and  had  a secret  hope  that  sometime  she  would 
be  able  to  give  them  an  organ  and  teach  them  how 
to  keep  more  nearly  to  the  tune.  This  morning,  how- 
ever, she  did  not  notice  the  discords;  she  did  not 
hear  the  harsh  nasal  tones  of  Grandfather  Im,  who 
could  sing  everything  in  the  Hymnal  from  the 
Lord’s  Prayer  through  the  index  to  the  same  tune — 
no,  she  heard  none  of  these  things,  but  only  the 
sweet,  simple  words  of  prayer  and  praise. 

The  strain  of  melody  rose  from  the  expectant, 
believing  hearts,  and  the  lone  watcher  on  the  hill 
became  conscious  that  she  was  not  alone.  There  was 
One  with  her  of  whom  she  had  thought  little  during 
the  days  just  past.  Unseen,  He  was  in  the  midst, 
and  His  glory  shone  around. 

“Anywhere  with  Jesus  I am  not  alone; 

Other  friends  may  fail  me,  He  is  still  my  own; 

Though  His  hand  may  lead  me  over  drearest  ways, 
Anywhere  with  Jesus  will  be  home,  sweet  home." 

The  soft,  balmy  air  of  the  summer  morning,  the 
distant,  tinkling  sounds  from  the  valley  below,  and 
the  drowsy  buzz  of  insects  united  in  a soothing 
lullaby.  Kumokie  yielded  to  their  gentle  influence; 
the  dark  head  sank  lower  against  the  brown  bowl  of 
the  gnarled  old  pine;  the  dark  lashes  swept  her  face; 
then  deep,  regular  breathing  stirred  her  soft  throat. 
A little  ground  squirrel  came  out,  cast  suspicious 
glances  at  the  queer  invader,  and  scurried  away  on 
some  half-forgotten  errand.  Then  all  was  still. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

The  Parting  of  the  Ways 

^ | ^HE  purple  shadows  of  twilight  seemed  to  en- 
fold  Kumokie’s  spirit.  The  restless  pain  and 
indecision  of  the  past  days  grew  more  and  more  in- 
tense. Alone,  she  was  treading  a winding,  moun- 
tain path,  and  the  darkening  shades  were  creeping 
longer  and  blacker  over  the  low,  sleepy  valleys.  She 
was  very  tired,  and  her  feet  dragged  wearily.  Just 
before  her  was  the  Parting  of  the  Ways,  where  the 
mountain  trail  branched.  One,  a straight,  narrow 
way,  was  very  rugged  and  rough,  with  stones  to 
bruise  her  tender  feet  and  steep  ascents  too  high  for 
her  frail  strength  to  scale.  As  she  stopped  in  speech- 
less sorrow  and  gazed  up  this  hard  and  lonely  way 
she  trembled  with  fear.  Chill  loneliness  gripped  her 
heart,  and  she  sobbed  aloud:  “O,  no;  not  that  road! 
It  is  so  hard  and  lonely.”  She  shivered,  buried  her 
face  in  her  arms,  and  turned  away.  Then  One  stood 
beside  her,  though  she  had  thought  herself  alone. 
His  eyes  held  the  tenderness  of  divine  love,  and  on 
His  brow  was  a crown  of  thorns.  One  hand  was 
reached  out  toward  the  hesitating  girl  with  an  ap- 
peal of  infinite  compassion,  and  the  other  pointed 
to  the  heights  beyond,  but  in  those  hands  were 
wound  prints.  The  pilgrim  knew  Him  instantly 
and  recognized,  too,  that  His  call  was  to  the  higher 
road,  the  narrow,  ragged  way  which  seemed  so 
rough  and  steep. 

Sadly,  mutely  she  turned  away  to  contemplate 
the  beauties  and  brightness  of  the  other  way.  Broad 
(200) 


The  Parting  of  the  Ways 


201 


and  shady,  it  stretched  away  in  smooth  invitation 
to  the  valley  below.  Half  hidden  amidst  the  ver- 
dant loveliness  of  the  valley  was  a silver,  threadlike 
river,  sparling  in  the  sunlight.  How  peaceful  and 
enticing  after  the  dreary  mountain  path! 

Did  some  one  call  her?  She  listened  and  strained 
to  hear  the  faint  sound.  Again.  Did  she  not  re- 
ognize  that  beloved  voice?  Aye,  anywhere  and 
always  she  would  know  its  faintest  whisper.  She 
fancied  that  even  in  death  that  voice  could  call  her 
back  to  earth.  It  was  Noch  Kyung.  But  where  was 
he?  What  did  he  say?  She  looked  eagerly,  anx- 
iously toward  the  valley;  she  listened  to  the  deep 
voice  and  then  forgot  the  thorn-crowned  One  above. 
Nearer,  more  pleadingly  came  the  voice  from  be- 
low. She  could  hear  the  words  now. 

“Kumokie!  Kumokie!  Where  are  you?” 

With  eager  feet  she  hastened  to  meet  him.  O,  to 
see  him  again,  to  listen  to  the  sweet  words  she  had 
so  longed  and  feared  to  hear,  to  look  again  into  those 
dear  eyes  and  see  the  lovelight  gleam  there  for  her 
alone — ah,  this  would  be  paradise! 

“Here,  here  I am,”  and  even  as  she  called  he 
stood  before  her  in  all  the  perfection  of  her  dreams. 

The  one  upon  whom  she  gazed  with  such  adora- 
tion was  not  the  hard,  cynical  young  man  of  the 
world  who  was  Kim  Noch  Kyung.  This  was  the 
beautiful  ideal  whose  image  she  had  carried  in  her 
heart  and  called  by  that  name  she  loved.  The  light 
of  a noble  love  shone  in  his  face,  and  she  responded 
with  gladness. 

“Come  with  me,  my  Kumokie.  I have  many 
beautiful  things  to  show  you  in  the  Valley  of  Love. 


202  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

Come  with  me.  Do  not  fear.  You  shall  no  more 
know  sorrow  or  loneliness  or  pain,  for  I love  you  and 
will  show  you  the  meaning  of  life.  Come;  do  not 
look  upward  to  that  steep  mountain  way,  for  there 
are  stones  to  bruise  your  tender  feet  and  thorns  to 
tear  your  dear  flesh.  I would  lead  you  through  this 
sweet  valley  into  the  Garden  of  Roses,  where  blooms 
every  variety  of  pleasure  and  of  beauty  that  the 
world  can  bestow.  Do  not  hesitate.  Beloved,  have 
you  not  waited  through  long  weary  years  for  this? 
Put  your  little  hand  in  mine,  and  then  forget  the 
pain  and  anguish  of  the  way.” 

With  a long,  quivering  sigh,  she  turned  to  him 
and  said:  “O,  I do  want  to  go  with  you,  for  I fear 
the  hard  toil  and  loneliness  of  the  mountain  peaks, 
but  it  is  not  right.  It  is  wrong,  and  I am  afraid  of 
sin!”  She  drew  back  and  hesitated. 

His  glad  laugh  rang  out:  “Sin?  And  what  is  sin? 
The  pleasure  to  be  found  in  this  world  ends  all! 
Foolish  child!  Forget  such  folly  and  enjoy  this  life 
while  you  may,  for  to-morrow  you  die.”  While  she 
still  hesitated  he  came  nearer  and  with  the  tender- 
ness of  an  accepted  lover  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and 
drew  her  to  his  breast.  As  she  yielded  herself  to  his 
embrace  all  the  pent-up  flood  of  longing  seemed  to 
burst  their  bonds  and  to  go  out  to  him.  What  else 
mattered? 

So  with  a happy  little  smile  she  said:  “Yes,  I will 
go  with  you  anywhere.  But  come  into  the  beautiful 
valley,  for  I must  pluck  the  flowers  in  that  garden 
and  taste  the  fruit  which  is  so  wondrous  sweet.” 

Hand  in  hand  they  descended  into  the  valley,  but 


The  Parting  of  the  Ways  203 

the  thorn-crowned  One  looked  upon  them  in  divine 
pity.  The  voice  beloved  sounded  in  her  ears. 

“All  that  is  lovely,  all  that  you  desire  will  I give 
you.  No  more  rough  hardness  for  you  now.  We 
will  enter  together  the  Garden  of  Delights.” 

Immediately  they  stood  by  the  high  stone  wall. 
The  ponderous  gate  swung  back  of  its  own  accord 
as  they  approached.  Breathless  with  wonder  and 
admiration,  she  looked  about  her  at  the  profusion 
and  richness  of  the  flowers — roses,  blushing,  beauti- 
ful, beckoned  to  her;  lilies,  slender  in  pale  loveliness, 
nodded  their  sweet  heads  in  welcome;  violets,  helio- 
trope, and  all  manner  of  blossoms  that  she  had  never 
before  seen  lifted  their  urgent  call  of  fragrance;  upon 
the  wall  rested  luscious  clusters  of  purple  grapes, 
and  heavily  laden  branches  of  fruit  trees  gave  her  a 
more  intense  reminder  of  her  hunger. 

“How  beautiful!  How  beautiful  it  all  is!  I shall 
be  satisfied  when  I can  pick  those  lovely  flowers  and 
eat  this  perfect  fruit.” 

“It  is  all  yours.  Take,  eat,  and  be  completely 
satisfied.” 

With  a glad  cry  she  ran  forward  to  snatch  a 
blushing  rosebud,  but  even  as  she  touched  it  it  fell 
to  ashes  under  her  fingers.  Disappointed  and  sur- 
prised, she  turned  away,  but  the  queenly  grace  of 
the  pale  lilies  made  her  forget  the  rose  dust,  and  in 
breathless  expectation  she  leaned  over  the  nodding 
beauties.  Their  sweet  breath  fanned  her  cheek,  and 
she  buried  her  face  in  their  silky  petals  to  inhale 
their  fragrance.  Behold!  the  flowers  had  turned  to 
filthy  carrion,  and  the  putrefying  odor  took  her 
breath  away.  Struggling  for  air,  she  fled  from  this 


204  Kumokie — A Bride  oj  Old  Korea 

horror.  Yet  again  her  attention  was  turned  from 
this  strange  thing  to  the  purple,  dewy  clusters  which 
covered  the  garden  wall.  She  was  utterly  tired  and 
very  hungry,  and  she  reached  out  her  hand  to  take 
the  largest  bunch.  But  what  was  this  awful  thing? 
It  was  a grinning,  mocking  demon  that  leered  at  her. 
She  could  not  shake  it  loose  from  her  hand;  it 
seemed  to  become  a part  of  her,  and  others  more 
hideous  thronged  about  her.  With  growing  fear  and 
terror  she  tried  to  call  aloud  for  help,  but  her  tongue 
refused  to  utter  a sound,  and  with  staring  eyes  she 
looked  at  those  hateful  apparitions.  All  the  joy- 
ous anticipation  fled  from  her,  leaving  her  cold  with 
fear  and  apprehension.  Then  suddenly  were  her 
eyes  opened,  and  she  saw  all  things  for  what  they 
were,  not  as  they  had  seemed  a short  while  before 
to  her  intoxicated  senses.  This  was  only  a prison 
filled  wdth  dead  ashes  of  hopes,  hideous  demons,  and 
repulsive  carcasses,  and  she  had  thought  it  a beau- 
tiful garden  with  rich  fruit  and  fragrant  flowers. 

She  looked  for  the  gate  to  find  a way  of  escape; 
but  there  were  only  high  bare  walls  of  stone.  In 
anguish  of  spirit  she  remembered  the  Parting  of  the 
Ways  and  the  choice  which  she  had  made,  then  she 
cried  out  in  terror  to  the  man  who  had  led  her  this 
way:  “ Noch  Kyung!  Noch  Kyung!  Take  me  away. 
I’m  afraid!” 

The  hard,  cold  voice  of  a stranger  answered: 
“How?  Do  you  like  my  garden?” 

“No,  no;  let  me  out.  It  is  not  a garden;  it  is  the 
prison  place  of  lost  souls.  You  promised  to  me  love 
and  beauty  and  happiness,  but  you  are  only  a 


The  Parting  of  the  Ways 


205 


cruel  stranger  that  I do  not  know.  Let  me  out, 
I beseech  you;  I am  afraid.” 

Only  a laugh  of  cruel  derision  met  this  frantic 
wail.  Her  heart  was  bursting  with  an  agony  of 
shame  and  remorse.  Then  she  remembered  the 
tender  pity  of  the  thorn-crowned  One  at  the  Parting 
of  the  Ways. 

”0,  if  it  were  not  too  late  and  I could  choose  again, 
dear  Lord;  I would  not  shame  Thee  so!  Just  once 
again.  I pray  for  one  more  opportunity  to  choose 
the  right  way.” 

In  that  place  of  awful  memories,  amid  the  skulls 
and  hideous  relics  of  the  tombs,  she  fell  upon  her 
knees  and  lifted  up  a cry  of  agony:  “Thy  will,  O 
Lord,  be  done.  I see  how  foolish  and  ignorant  I have 
been.  I do  not  want  my  own  way  now.  Anywhere 
with  Thee,  Master,  the  road  would  not  seem  lonely 
nor  hard.”  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  with  broken  sobs  made  her  confession  and  plea 
for  mercy. 

She  saw  clearly  now  that  during  the  past  her  fierce 
struggle  had  been  because  she  was  not  willing  or 
ready  to  say,  “Thy  will  be  done,”  but  now  how 
happy  she  would  be  to  be  able  to  choose  again 
that  upward  way  with  the  thorn-crowned  One  to 
lead  over  the  dreary  ways!  Then  a strange  peace 
and  vcalmness  came  over  her  troubled  spirit,  that 
peace  which  the  world  cannot  give  and  which  the 
world  cannot  take  away. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  was  amazed  to  find 
that  the  walls  had  vanished.  Again  she  stood  at 
the  Parting  of  the  Ways.  She  gazed  upward  toward 
the  heights.  The  way  was  narrow  and  steep,  but 


206  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

it  did  not  seem  lonely,  for  the  thorn-crowned  One 
was  there.  With  a joyous  cry  she  realized  that  an- 
other opportunity,  that  for  which  she  had  prayed, 
had  been  granted  her.  Above  the  rugged  steeps  she 
saw  that  the  higher  peaks  were  touched  with  the 
crimson  and  gold  of  the  dawn.  Over  the  distant 
heights  there  hung  a cross,  which  was  bathed  in  the 
radiance  of  the  coming  day;  above  and  encircling 
the  cross  was  a crown  of  glory,  which  sparkled  and 
shone  resplendent  in  the  light  of  heaven  which 
streamed  upon  it. 


The  little  squirrel  came  out  from  his  hiding  place 
and  looked  again  and  more  closely  at  the  strange 
visitor.  She  was  so  still  and  quiet  that  he  thought 
she  might  be  dead.  No,  she  was  only  asleep,  for  she 
opened  startled,  dusky  eyes  and  lifted  her  head. 
Then  Mr.  Squirrel  scampered  away  to  his  home. 

With  the  dazed,  uncertain  air  of  one  suddenly 
torn  away  from  the  scenes  of  another  world,  Ku- 
mokie looked  about  her.  To  her  awakened  senses 
slowly  dawned  the  meaning  of  the  things  she  had 
just  witnessed. 

“Thank  God,”  she  murmured  softly.  In  her  heart 
was  a new  revelation  of  a truth  which  she  had  known 
before,  but  not  in  her  own  experience.  With  closed 
lips  she  hummed  to  herself  the  words  which  meant 
more  to  her  than  they  had  before: 

“Anywhere  without  Him  dearest  joys  would  fade; 

Anywhere  with  Jesus,  I am  not  afraid.” 

Gone  was  all  the  restlessness.  The  storm  was 
stilled,  leaving  clear,  unclouded  skies.  The  Master 


The  Parting  of  the  Way  207 

had  spoken  his  “ Peace,  be  still”  to  her  troubled 
spirit. 

As  she  slowly  made  her  way  homeward  her  whole 
face  and  bearing  was  a visible  expression  of  this  new- 
found calm;  the  tired,  drawn  look  about  her  mouth 
was  gone,  and  the  lips  were  set  again  in  their  wonted 
mobile  lines  of  tender  beauty;  the  timid,  half-fright- 
ened,  half-defiant  air  had  given  place  to  that  quality 
of  poise  undefinable  which  expresses  the  assurance 
of  a peaceful  spirit;  the  brow  was  placid  and  serene; 
the  soft,  steady  light  in  the  limpid  depths  of  the 
sweet  brown  eyes  told  again  of  the  purity  and  calm- 
ness of  a heart  at  rest. 


CHAPTER  XX 
A Stolen  Bride 

KUMOKIE  realized  that  she  must  have  been 
asleep  quite  awhile.  The  sun  was  past  the 
zenith  now.  The  sun!  With  a start  she  thought  of 
the  dream  of  the  crimson  dawn  she  had  seen  so 
vividly.  A crimson  dawn!  How  often  had  she  heard 
the  old  folk  say  that  this  meant  storm  ahead! 
Dream?  Or  was  it  a vision?  Yes,  she  knew  there 
was  storm  ahead — perhaps  even  tempest,  ship- 
wreck. The  meaning  of  it  all  swept  over  her  in  a 
flood,  and  Kumokie  sat  down  on  a fallen  tree  trunk 
to  think  it  over.  Well  she  knew  that  a crisis  in  her 
life  was  near,  but  she  saw  more  clearly  than  she  had 
ever  seen  before  the  fact  that  her  chief  danger  was 
her  own  heart.  “O,”  sighed  she,  “whatever  comes, 
I shall  be  all  right  if  I but  conquer  my  own  heart. 
How  often  have  I been  told  that  sin  must  come  from 
the  inside!  Nothing  really  can  harm  me — no  one 
can  hurt  me  but  myself.” 

Thus  firmly  resolved  to  let  Jesus  reign  and  rule  in 
her  heart  supreme,  Kumokie  came  to  a turn  in  the 
narrow  lane,  and  her  eyes  were  on  the  far-distant 
hills,  her  thoughts  not  of  physical  danger. 

Suddenly  strong  arms  seized  her  from  behind. 
Her  eyes  were  covered  with  a blindfold.  Some 
one,  not  untenderly,  trammeled  her  hands  together. 
No  word  was  spoken;  but  quickly,  quietly,  dexter- 
ously she  was  lifted  and  carried  a few  feet,  then 
placed  on  what  seemed  to  be  soft  pillows.  From 
the  moment  she  knew  herself  a captive  she  had  no* 
(208) 


Suddenly  strong  arms  seized  her.  Her  eyes  were  covered  with 
a blindfold.  Some  one,  not,  untend erly,  trammeled 
h'er^  k(tJvdis-‘  together 


A Stolen  Bride 


209 


need  to  ask  by  whom  or  why.  That  her  captors  were 
Noch  Ky ung’s  agents  she  had  no  doubt.  Often  she 
had  tried  to  imagine  how  he  might  try  to  carry 
out  his  threats  against  her,  yet  she  had  never  dreamed 
that  he  would  be  this  bold.  Now  she  wondered  that 
she  had  not  thought  of  this,  that  Uncle  Tochil  had 
not  protected  her  against  being  kidnaped. 

She  was  not  afraid;  fear  seemed  a thing  apart;  but, 
to  her  own  astonishment,  she  realized  that  she  was 
calm,  self-possessed,  and  confident  that  she  should 
come  forth  victor  in  the  seemingly  uneven  conflict. 

Stealthily,  with  whispered  orders,  the  men  circled 
about  in  their  preparations.  Kumokie,  lying  half 
on  her  side  in  a cramped,  uncomfortable  position  in 
what  seemed  to  be  a sedan  chair,  felt  the  lift  as  the 
coolies  heaved  the  burden  to  their  shoulders.  The 
swinging,  swaying  motion  of  the  sedan  chair  is 
unlike  anything  else,  and  she  knew  that  she  was 
being  carried  away.  This  square,  boxlike  chair 
is  far  from  comfortable  under  the  best  of  circum- 
stances, for  one  must  double  up  the  feet  under  one 
and  be  reconciled  to  cramped,  limited  quarters.  In 
her  strained  position,  half  lying,  half  sitting,  help- 
less and  bound,  almost  smothered  with  the  cloth 
over  her  head  that  covered  mouth  and  throat, 
Kumokie  was  in  agony  and  felt  that  she  must  get 
her  hands  unprisoned.  The  band  about  her  head 
was  pulling  her  hair  and  cutting  her  forehead.  But 
the  cords  about  her  hands  had  not  been  tightly 
fastened,  and,  after  fumbling,  turning,  and  twisting 
for  what  seemed  a long  time,  but  what  was  in  reality 
only  a few  minutes,  she  managed  to  slip  her  hands 
free  from  the  cords.  In  a moment  the  cloth  was  off 
14 


210  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

her  head.  Then  she  could  see  by  the  dim  light  of  her 
chair.  It  was  an  elegantly  fitted  lady’s  Korean  chair. 
Through  the  tiny  glass  high  on  the  front  panel  she 
could  see  the  carriers,  the  coolies,  swinging  along  as 
rapidly  as  they  could  down  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
the  side  of  the  ridge  opposite  that  on  which  her  uncle 
lived.  Should  she  call  or  cry  out?  What  was  the 
use?  There  were  none  to  hear  except  those  who 
would  bind  her  again  if  she  cried  out.  Four  men 
were  carrying  her  chair.  From  the  tramp  of  feet 
she  judged  there  were  others  also.  Who? 

All  through  the  long,  weary  afternoon  they  stead- 
ily went  onward,  only  stopping  to  change  places  at 
the  chair  poles.  No  one  came  near  to  see  how  she 
fared;  no  one  spoke  to  her.  Would  they  stop  for 
the  night?  Were  they  taking  her  to  Seoul?  Was 
Noch  Kyung  along?  Was  Uncle  Tochil  frightened? 
Would  he  trace  and  follow  them?  These  and  a hun- 
dred other  questions  thronged  her  mind  while  the 
afternoon  faded  away  and  the  gray  shades  closed  in 
on  the  travelers.  The  mountain  path  had  long  since 
been  left  behind  for  the  smoother  trail  across  the 
valleys.  The  weary  occupant  of  the  chair,  whose 
ears  were  strained  to  catch  every  sound  without, 
felt  sure  that  at  the  last  big  village  their  little  caval- 
cade had  been  increased  by  several  others — coolies 
for  relays  perhaps,  or — yes,  she  felt  sure  there  was 
another  chair,  for  she  could  hear  the  calls  and  com- 
mands of  the  leaders  from  more  than  one  chair  as 
they  swung  along.  The  bray  of  a donkey  sounded 
shrilly  out  on  the  evening  air.  Yes,  certainly  he 
would  ride  a donkey,  an  aristocratic  donkey. 


A Stolen  Bride 


211 


Had  he  been  waiting  here  for  them,  or  had  he  been 
with  the  captors? 

No  food  had  passed  her  lips  since  the  bowl  of 
porridge  in  the  early  morning.  Now  as  the  night 
closed  in  about  them  and  she  saw  that  preparations 
seemed  to  have  been  made  for  an  all-night  journey, 
Kumokie  realized  that  she  was  faint  with  fatigue 
and  hunger.  The  monotonous  sway  of  the  chair, 
the  twinkling  lanterns  in  the  darkness,  the  chant  of 
the  coolies,  and  the  utter  weariness  overcame  her 
watchfulness.  She  relaxed  somewhat,  found  a more 
comfortable  position  for  her  cramped  legs  by  lean- 
ing back  on  the  soft  cushions,  and  the  overtaxed 
body  yielded  to  the  need  of  rest. 

She  must  have  lost  consciousness  in  sleep,  for 
with  a start  she  sat  upright — they  were  putting  her 
down.  What  were  they  go’ing  to  do?  What?  Had 
she  slept?  With  strained  eagerness  she  listened  and 
waited.  The  men  were  eating.  Was  her  chair 
guarded?  Might  it  be  possible  for  her  to  slip  out 
into  the  night?  She  well  knew  that  her  chair  would 
be  watched,  and  even  while  these  thoughts  ran 
through  her  mind  she  knew  that  to  try  to  escape 
would  be  folly  and  would  also  make  her  appear  ridic- 
ulous. In  tense  suspense  she  waited  anxiously  to  see 
what  would  happen.  Finally  some  one  with  a lantern 
approached  her  chair.  She  trembled  with  suspense 
and  agitation  as  a hand  fumbled  with  the  fasten- 
ings and  at  last  lifted  the  curtain  and  laid  it  back  on 
the  top  of  the  chair. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
An  Unknown  Way 

WITH  bated  breath  Kumokie  sat  in  the  chair 
while  some  one  unfastened  the  clumsy  straps 
of  the  curtain.  Who  was  it?  What  would  they  do? 
At  last  she  looked  up  into  the  face  of  an  old  wrinkled 
Korean  woman,  a servant  evidently;  but  her  face 
was  kindly,  and  as  this  strangely  assorted  pair 
looked  long  at  each  other  for  the  first  time,  each 
realized  that  she  had  found  a friend.  One  found  a 
sense  of  relief  and  comfort  in  the  presence  of  the 
other  woman,  while  the  second  looked  into  the  most 
beautiful  face  she  had  ever  seen.  She  said  after- 
wards that  the  great  brown  eyes  lifted  so  anxiously 
and  pleadingly  to  hers  found  instant  response  in 
her  own  heart,  and  then  and  ever  afterwards  she 
would  have  been  ready  to  die  in  serving  her  new 
mistress.  So,  before  a word  was  spoken,  by  the 
flickering  light  of  a candle  this  strange  friendship 
was  sealed. 

“O,  my  lady,  you  are  tired!  You  may  be  very 
faint  with  hunger!  Can  you  stand?  My  legs  were 
numb  from  sitting  so  long  in  my  chair.  Let  me  help 
you.  Stand  a moment;  it  will  do  you  good.” 

But  the  lady  shrank  back  into  the  shadows  of  the 
chair,  the  kindly  shadows  that  would  hide  her  from 
the  prying  curious  eyes  that  were  around  them. 

”0,  no,  Ahma  [a  name  commonly  used  for  maids]. 
Thank  you,  but  I am  all  right.” 

“You  have  many  weary  hours  to  be  crumpled  up 
in  your  chair;  you  need  a change.”  Then,  diving  for 
(212) 


An  Unknown  Way 


213 


a small  traylike  table  which  she  had  set  on  the 
ground,  she  placed  it  before  Kumokie.  “But  here 
is  some  supper — you  must  eat,  my  lady!” 

It  was  not  difficult,  even  under  those  trying  cir- 
cumstances, to  follow  this  sage  advice.  The  food 
placed  before  her  was  the  daintiest  and  most  appe- 
tizing, from  the  savory  rice  and  delicious  vege- 
tables to  the  sweetmeats  and  fruit.  Ahma  stood  by 
in  great  delight  to  see  her  mistress  really  eating  some- 
thing. She  served  her  in  every  way  possible,  run- 
ning to  fetch  this  or  the  other.  Then,  when  the 
tray  was  pushed  aside,  she  hurried  back  with  a 
beautiful  brass  bowl  of  hot  water  and  a towel  for  her 
refreshment.  Most  gratefully  was  this  received. 
The  tenderness  and  unexpected  kindness  of  the  old 
servant  was  a ray  of  light  in  the  darkness. 

“Let  me  shake  your  pillows.  Your  poor  head! 
Your  beautiful  hair  is  all  loose.  May  I not  plait  it 
for  you?  It  will  be  much  more  comfortable  that 
way.” 

Kumokie  had  not  thought  of  her  streaming  hair. 
The  long  silver  pin  had  been  lost,  and  the  smaller  ones 
too,  while  she  had  been  struggling  back  yonder  on 
the  mountain  side  to  free  her  hands  from  the  man- 
acles. 

“Yes,  so  it  is.  Thank  you,  I wish  you  would  plait 
it.”  And  she  turned  her  back  to  Ahma  to  have  her 
perform  this  task. 

Out  from  a little  basket  came  combs  and  a rib- 
bon. Ahma  seemed  to  have  thought  of  everything. 
With  the  light,  gentle  touches  of  experienced  fingers, 
she  deftly  handled  the  tresses,  murmuring  the  while 
words  of  tender  compassion. 


214 


Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 


“I’ll  take  care  of  you,  poor  little  one;  don’t  be 
afraid.  You  are  my  baby  now  to  look  after — beau- 
tiful hair,  so  soft,  so  fine.  I’ll  take  care  of  my  baby.” 

Tears  came  to  the  weary  eyes  of  the  captive. 
How  like  to  her  mother’s  tender  touches  of  love! 
Who  else  had  ever  called  her  “my  baby”?  This 
unexpected  kindness  brought  again  before  her 
vivid  memory  the  frail,  sweet  mother,  whose  great 
love  for  her  only  child  had  been  her  strongest 
passion.  Her  mother’s  spirit  seemed  with  her,  her 
presence  as  potent  as  in  those  far-off  days  in  Saemal 
by  the  sea. 

A stir,  and  the  clamor  of  coolies  and  horses  came 
to  her  through  the  darkness.  The  caravan  was  going 
to  move.  After  the  short  rest,  they  were  off  again. 
This  time,  however,  the  tenseness  and  anxiety  were 
gone.  When  the  coolies  lifted  the  chair  to  their 
shoulders,  Kumokie  gave  a sigh  of  relief  and  relaxed 
among  the  soft,  silken  pillows  and  cushions  that 
Ahma  had  piled  about  her.  Soon  the  soothing 
motion  had  lulled  her  to  sleep.  Had  one’s  vision 
pierced  beyond  the  concealing  curtain,  they  would 
have  seen  the  sleeper’s  face,  a pale,  sweet,  tear- 
stained  face,  but  one  full  of  peace,  a face  wherein 
was  written  calm  and  confidence. 

Daylight  brought  another  period  of  rest  for  the 
coolies  and  breakfast  for  the  travelers.  But  O,  the 
weary,  dreary  miles  of  that  interminable  day! 
Relays  of  coolies  had  evidently  been  stationed 
along  the  road,  for  they  went  forward  as  rapidly  as 
is  possible  for  men  to  travel. 

All  day  the  prisoner  thought  of  her  uncle  and 
aunt  and  of  how  anxious  and  worried  they  would 


CHAPTER  XXII 
Lady  Kim 

SUNG-JUNNIE  carried  his  limp,  all-but-fainting 
burden  into  a room  that  had  evidently  been 
carefully  prepared  for  the  expected  occupant, 
though  she  noted  none  of  its  grandeur  or  luxury  then. 
The  room  and  its  furniture  were  of  the  kind  used  by 
high-class  ladies  of  means,  although  there  were  no 
chairs  or  bed — these  things  were  not  needed  in  this 
silken  nook.  The  walls  were  covered  with  a soft 
silk  of  seashell  pink.  The  floor,  of  regular  Korean 
stone  construction,  was  covered  with  smooth,  vel- 
vety rugs  of  foreign  make;  in  one  corner  a heap  of 
downy  comforts  invited  rest.  Opposite  this  bed 
was  a low  writing  desk  and  book  case.  Such  a room 
had  never  been  hers  before;  but  Kumokie  saw 
none  of  its  beauty  now.  As  the  servant  laid  her 
gently  on  the  soft,  low  bed  her  eyes  were  closed, 
and  she  did  not  move.  With  noiseless  step  came 
two  other  maids,  and  Ahma  went  to  her  well-earned 
rest.  These  newcomers  chafed  the  cold  hands 
and  feet,  loosened  Kumokie’s  clothes,  and  brought 
a hot  drink  which  they  forced  between  the  closed 
lips.  When  at  last  she  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled, 
they  were  overjoyed.  These  maids  were  masters  of 
the  art  of  massage;  and  the  tired,  rigid  body  was 
tenderly,  gently  rubbed  until  under  their  soothing 
touch  the  patient  fell  into  a quiet  slumber  just  as 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun  were  lighting  a new  day. 

Time  about,  one  maid  then  the  other  sat  by  the 
door  opening  into  the  veranda,  listening  for  the 

(217) 


4 


218  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

faintest  sound  or  move  from  within.  But  all  was 
quiet.  Like  a baby’s  peaceful  rest,  the  quiet  little 
figure  lay  among  the  pillows  and  downy  comforts 
in  the  corner.  But  at  last,  when  the  day  was  far 
spent,  the  watchers  at  the  door  heard  a little  mur- 
mur and  entered.  Her  eyes  still  misty  with  sleep 
and  confusion,  Kumokie  sat  up  and  looked  about 
her  in  astonishment.  Then  with  a flash  it  all  came 
back  to  her — where  she  was  and  why. 

“O,  yes,  I remember  now.  Good  morning.  Or 
is  it  evening?” 

“Have  you  slept  in  peace,  my  lady?” 

“Yes,  thank  you.  How  is  Ahma?  Did  the  jour- 
ney tire  her  much?” 

“O,  she  is  quite  all  right  after  her  rest.  She  looks 
frail,  but  she  is  as  tough  as  a pine  knot.  Here  she 
is  now.”  The  younger  woman  moved,  with  re- 
spectful gesture,  toward  the  door  as  Ahma  advanced. 

“Peace  to  you,  Lady  Kim.  Are  you  better  this 
morning?” 

With  a start  Kumokie  heard  this  name  the  first 
time  applied  to  her.  She  had  always  been  called  Ye 
Kumokie  at  her  grandfather’s  house  and  Chun 
Kumokie  at  her  uncle’s  house.  But  here  she  was 
Lady  Kim.  A rich  crimson  dyed  her  face  and 
throat.  Given  up  to  her  own  thought,  she  stared 
at  her  servant  but  did  not  answer. 

“Will  you  have  a bath  first,  or  your  supper  break- 
fast?” continued  Ahma. 

“A  bath,  please.” 

Ahma  clapped  her  hands  together  Oriental  fash- 
ion, and  in  came  the  maid  to  receive  her  orders  from 
this  upper  servant.  With  well-oiled  machinery, 


Lady  Kim 


219 


which  no  woman  could  fail  to  notice,  the  household 
moved  along  smoothly.  A well-served  meal  of  de- 
liciously cooked  food  was  finally  placed  before  her 
by  the  well-trained  maid. 

Kumokie  was  consumed  with  a desire  to  ask  a 
hundred  questions,  but  she  had  determined  to  re- 
tain her  dignity  and  to  ask  nothing  nor  seem  curi- 
ous. Where  was  Noch  Kyung?  Was  he  in  this 
house?  According  to  all  well-regulated  Korean 
custom,  she  knew  that  she  had  not  been  brought  to 
the  same  house  as  that  in  which  the  “small  wife” 
lived.  But  where  was  she?  Where  was  he,  and 
when  should  she  see  him  and  come  to  an  under- 
standing about  these  things? 

Her  own  simple  dress  had  disappeared,  and  in  its 
place  they  brought  her  elegant  silks  and  satins. 

“No,  please.  I do  not  want  these  fine  clothes. 
Where  are  my  own  plain  things?” 

“So  soiled  and  travel  worn.  Why,  lady,  you  can- 
not wear  those!” 

“Then  please  have  them  laundered  at  once.  I 
do  not  care  for  these  rich  clothes.  I want  my  own.” 
Then  she  chose  the  least  gorgeous  of  the  beauti- 
ful robes  before  her,  wondering  the  while  what  she 
should  say  and  when  she  should  have  an  opportuni- 
ty to  speak  to  her  lord. 

“Our  orders,  lady,  are  that  you  have  every  care 
and  service  possible  to  render,  and  that  every  desire, 
as  far  as  is  possible,  be  granted.  The  master  said 
to  ask  if  you  had  all  things  to  make  you  comfort- 
able and  if  there  is  anything  you  desire.” 

Kumokie  shook  her  head,  Her  inclination  was  to 
send  a haughty,  biting  reply;  but  a sudden  thought 


220  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

came  to  her  and  she  asked:  “0  Ahma.  Say,  do  you 
know  where  you  can  find  a New  Testament?  I am 
a Christian,  and,  since  I came  without  my  own  pos- 
sessions, I would  be  glad  to  have  another.” 

“Yes.  Have  you  examined  the  desk  yonder? 
Already  I have  brought  one.  I knew  you  would 
want  it.” 

With  hurried  step  Kumokie  crossed  to  the  desk. 
Sure  enough!  With  a Hymnal  and  “Pilgrim’s 
Progress”  there  lay  a little  red  Testament. 

Clasping  it  to  her  heart  as  a long-lost  friend, 
Kumokie  turned  to  Ahma:  “I  am  so  glad,  and  I do 
thank  you.  But  how  did  you  guess?  ” 

“O,  I,  too,  am  a follower  of  Jesus — and  I know.” 
“You  are?  I might  have  known.” 

“Yes,  that  is  why  the  master  chose  me  for  your 
companion  and  housekeeper — he  said  it  would  com- 
fort you,  perhaps.” 

What  a strange  man  this:  thoughtful  for  every 
comfort  and  even  the  smaller  details — and  yet  how 
cruel ! She  would  have  been  even  more  surprised  had 
she  known  how  he  himself  had  been  studying  the 
books  and  the  customs  of  the  Christians. 

She  was  too  proud  to  ask  any  questions.  Would 
he  come  soon?  She  could  not  even  indirectly  speak 
of  him.  Before  her  was  a difficult  task;  but  the  line 
of  conduct  which  duty  and  loyalty  to  her  Christ 
demanded  was  now  clear,  and,  however  difficult  to 
convince  Noch  Kyung  of  the  truth,  she  no  longer 
feared  the  treachery  of  her  own  love  for  him.  For 
she  acknowledged  now  to  her  own  heart  that  she 
loved  him,  had  always  loved  him  since  the  days  in 
far-off  Saemal,  but  she  felt  that  with  her  lay 


Lady  Kim 


221 


the  responsibility  of  leading  him  to  the  Cross  and 
teaching  him  the  way  of  life  and  peace.  Her  duty 
now  was  not  only  to  save  her  own  soul  by  steadfast- 
ness to  that  which  she  knew  to  be  right,  but  also  a 
more  difficult  task — to  save  Noch  Kyung  from  the 
results  of  his  own  folly. 

While  thinking  thus  she  heard  a familiar  voice 
in  the  courtyard  outside,  a man's  step  on  the  veranda, 
and  her  heart  seemed  to  stop  its  beating. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

His  Lawful  Wife,  Yet  a Perfect  Stranger 

MR.  KIM  stepped  into  the  room.  He  was  vis- 
ibly embarrassed.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a 
bunch  of  flowers.  There  was  dead  silence.  The 
woman  who  was  his  lawful  wife,  and  yet  a perfect 
stranger,  sat  on  a cushion  across  the  room,  a picture 
of  composure  and  queenly  beauty.  He  stared  at 
her  in  amazement,  for  she  was  lovelier  even  than  he 
had  remembered.  She  gazed  at  him  without  mov- 
ing and  waited  for  him  to  speak.  There  were  so 
many  things  to  be  said  after  the  sting  of  many  empty 
years,  so  many  explanations  to  be  made,  and  neither 
had  a word  to  say. 

Noch  Kyung  stood  at  the  threshold  of  the  room 
and  awkwardly  held  the  flowers.  Kumokie  lifted 
wide,  dark  eyes  to  his  face.  She  had  dreaded  self- 
consciousness  when  they  should  meet,  but  she  was 
not  hampered  with  it  now.  She  was  tranquil  and 
serene,  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  him  or  of  her  own 
heart.  The  vision  of  her  duty,  her  responsibility  to 
save  him,  was  as  clear  and  unclouded  as  her  emo- 
tions. 

Noch  Kyung,  the  imperturbable  Mr.  Kim,  was 
more  outwitted  than  he  had  been  since  the  same 
slip  of  a girl  had  outgeneraled  him  once  before  and 
sent  him  in  undignified  haste  from  the  girls’  school. 

She  had  said  not  a word,  and  yet  he  suddenly 
felt  that  he  had  come  into  a holy  place,  a sacred 
shrine.  All  at  once  the  recent  escapade  and  the 
capture  of  his  own  wife,  which  he  had  laughingly 
(222) 


His  Lawful  Wife,  Yet  a Perfect  Stranger  223 


called  a brave  and  daring  feat,  seemed  unmanly 
and  contemptible,  not  in  keeping  with  the  part  he 
wished  to  play  before  that  lady. 

With  clumsy  fingers  he  placed  his  floral  offering 
before  her,  and,  still  standing  with  bowed  head,  in 
the  attitude  of  a supplicant  before  his  queen,  his 
words  came  involuntarily:  “I  apologize  for  my 
rough  and  ungentlemanly  behavior  of  the  last  few 
days.  At  first  I thought  it  was  a worthy  thing.  Now 
I see  it  differently,  and  I wish  with  all  my  heart  that 
I could  undo  the  deed.  I would  gladly  have  you  in 
your  uncle’s  home  until  you  are  ready  to  come  to 
me  of  your  own  free  will.  I beg  your  forgiveness.” 

So  young  he  seemed  as  he  stood  before  her,  so 
very  dear,  Kumokie’s  tender  heart  melted  before 
him.  How  noble  he  was — so  like  the  boy  husband 
she  had  adored  through  the  years,  the  same  lad  who 
defended  her  from  her  grandfather’s  anger.  These 
thoughts  flashed  in  a second  through  her  mind. 

She  moved  her  hand  to  gesture  him  to  be  seated 
and  brushed  the  roses  and  lilies,  his  peace  offering. 
Roses!  Lilies!  Her  dream!  The  garden  of  love  and 
delight  passed  quickly  before  her  vision  in  which  the 
lovely  flowers  had  changed  to  things  of  horror  and 
repulsion.  The  creamy  tint  of  her  cheek  paled. 

“This  is  God’s  warning;  I must  be  careful,”  she 
thought,  even  while  her  lips  were  murmuring: 
“Yes,  I forgive  you.  After  all,  it  is  just  as  well  so, 
for  it  is  necessary  that  we  meet  and  come  to  an  un- 
derstanding concerning  our  relations.  After  my 
uncle  received  your  letter,  I realized  that  we  must 
meet  and  discuss  these  things.” 

Noch  Kyung  had  been  sure  that  she  would  not 


224  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

fly  into  a fit  of  anger,  but  this  calm  assurance  on 
her  part  disarmed  the  young  man.  He  had  im- 
agined that  she  might  be  fearful  and  timid,  that  she 
would  be  angry  and  revile  him,  that  she  might  be 
sullen  and  silent,  and  for  all  these  moods  he  had  ar- 
ranged a line  of  attack.  But  before  the  gracious 
dignity  of  this  beautiful  lady  he  felt  like  a naughty 
little  boy  caught  stealing  persimmons.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  With  stammering  voice  he  at 
last  broke  the  silence. 

“ If  you  wish,  you  may  return  to  Okchun  to- 
morrow. The  chair  and  the  servants  are  at  your 
disposal  whenever  you  wish  to  leave ; but  it  is  a wear- 
ing journey,  and  I advise  you  to  rest  a while.  Are 
you  quite  comfortable?  Is  there  anything  I can  do 
for  your  pleasure  during  your  visit?” 

“All  about  me  are  many  comforts  and  luxuries 
that  I never  before  possessed.  For  all  this  I thank 
you;  but,  after  all,  these  things  are  not  important.” 
“No,  of  course  not,”  he  answered  quickly;  “but 
since  I have  been  the  cause  of  so  much  discomfort, 
I am  anxious  to  make  amends.” 

“I  thank  you;  but  as  soon  as  possible  I wish  to 
return  to  my  uncle’s  house.  So  let  us  now  talk  of 
the  things  I have  come  so  far  to  say.  I am  not  your 
wife.  I never  have  been  and  shall  never  be.  My 
future  is  decided.” 

“Your  future?  What?”  There  was  a harsh  note 
in  the  deep  silken  tones.  “What?  Do  you,  then, 
care  for  another?  Is  that  why  you  seek  a divorce?” 
“Divorce?  O,  why,  no!  I had  forgotten  that. 
But  I had  planned  to  give  my  life  in  service  to  the 
Christ  I follow.  I shall  never  marry.”  The  room 


His  Lawful  Wife , Yet  a Perfect  Stranger  225 

was  quiet  while  two  tortured  hearts  beat  faster. 
The  gentle  voice  continued:  “I  wish,  Noch  Kyung, 
that  you  knew  this  religion  of  love.  There  is  so 
much  in  you  that  is  fine  and  manly.  You  need  only 
the  divine  touch.” 

“Once  I thought  I hated  the  Christians.  I de- 
spised them  in  my  ignorance,  but  I should  like  to 
learn  if  you  will  be  my  teacher.” 

“Do  you  truly  mean  that  you  want  to  know,  or 
is  this  to  deceive  me?” 

“It  is  true.  I give  you  my  word  as  a gentleman 
of  the  noble  house  of  Kim  that  you  shall  not  be  de- 
tained a moment  in  my  house  against  your  will. 
But  if  you  will  stay  for  a few  days  as  my  honored 
guest  and  teach  me  your  better  way” — The  honest 
light  of  his  eyes  made  him  seem  the  boy  of  Saemal 
again.  Thrown  aside  was  the  mantle  of  worldly 
wisdom  with  which  he  so  long  had  covered  the 
fine  sheen  of  his  youth. 

“Then  I will  stay  for  a week,”  said  Kumokie, 
“and  every  afternoon  at  three  you  may  come  and 
study  with  me  God’s  Book  for  one  hour.” 

With  stately  dignity  and  respectful  words  of 
gratitude,  the  man  who  was  her  husband  and  yet  a 
stranger,  though  dearer  than  all  else  beside,  went 
out  into  the  night  and  left  her  alone. 

The  wonder  of  the  days  that  followed!  True  to 
his  word,  Kumokie  continued  an  honored  guest  in 
the  beautiful  mansion.  She  did  not  venture  be- 
yond the  courtyard,  for  the  city  was  strange  and 
full  of  horrors. 

One  hour  a day  he  sat  and  listened  to  a well-trained 
teacher  expound  the  Truth.  It  was  very  strange  and 
15 


226  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

wonderful  to  him,  but  even  stranger  was  the  fact 
that  a young  girl  like  this  could  know  so  much.  He 
found  that  her  lovely  little  head  was  well  stored  in 
all  the  wisdom  of  the  ancient  classic  sages  and  also 
of  the  modern  learning  of  the  Western  world.  No 
wonder  that  he  felt  his  own  limited  education  and 
was  humbler  before  her.  He  stayed  but  his  al- 
lotted hour  at  first. 

When  he  left  the  house  all  the  wifely  instincts  and 
natural  affection  so  long  repressed  cried  out  in  her 
broken  heart:  “Where  is  he  going?  Is  he  going  now 
to  that  other  woman?” 

Sometimes  she  felt  that  she  could  not  stand  another 
hour  of  that  sweet  fellowship  with  him  so  near,  that 
dear  voice  in  her  ear.  She  was  afraid  that  she  might 
lose  her  poise  and  self-control  and  be  willing  even  to 
sell  her  immortal  soul  for  entrance  into  the  Garden 
of  Delight.  But  memory,  vivid  and  agonizing, 
brought  her  again  to  the  clear  truth  that  God  had 
given  her  a mission  to  lead  him  to  the  Light,  and 
that  if  she  failed  and  fell  it  would  mean  not  only  the 
loss  of  her  own  soul  but  perhaps  Noch  Kyung’s  as 
well.  With  each  passing  day  it  grew  more  glorious 
and  beautiful — the  thought  that  she  had  been  given 
the  privilege  of  leading  him  to  the  Saviour.  Surely 
she  must  be  strong  a few  more  days  until  the  end. 
Then  she  would  go  away  forever  and  see  him  no 
more  on  earth. 

All  too  quickly  the  swiftly  running  days  were 
passing.  How  she  should  have  loved  to  hold  them 
back!  The  hour  of  daily  study  drew  itself  into  many 
hours  before  either  man  or  woman  knew  that  it  was 
gone. 


His  Lawful  Wife,  Yet  a Perfect  Stranger  227 

With  question  and  answer  and  explanations,  the 
wonderful  story  of  old  became  again  a living  reality 
to  a human  soul.  Noch  Kyung  thought  that  he 
understood  at  last  why  Kumokie  would  not  turn 
aside  from  the  path  she  had  chosen.  Yet  the  sub- 
ject of  their  lives  and  personal  problems  had  not 
been  mentioned  again. 

To-morrow  would  be  the  last  day  together.  The 
week  set  for  the  visit  had  all  too  quickly  passed 
away. 

With  soft,  tear-stained  face  pressed  against  her 
pillow  that  night,  Kumokie  whispered:  “O  Lord,  I 
thank  Thee  for  this  sweet  memory  to  carry  with  me 
all  the  years  that  I must  climb  alone  the  rocky, 
upward  path.  The  hardest  thing  to  bear  has  been 
the  barren  emptiness  of  my  life — no  beautiful  memo- 
ries; but  now,  how  sweet  to  know  that  he  is  worthy 
of  my  devotion!  Yes,  and  that  he  truly  loves  and 
respects  me,  too!  I thank  Thee,  Lord,  and  now  I 
am  ready  to  say,  ‘Thy  will  be  done  on  earth/  for  we 
shall  be  together  forever  hereafter.,, 

Then,  with  a smile  on  her  lips,  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

In  The  Home  Of  Her  Husband 

*T*HE  sun  dropped  low  enough  to  shine  through 
"*■  the  window  and  remind  the  stern  man  and 
the  woman  seated  in  the  room  that  there  was  very 
little  of  their  last  hour  left.  For  a moment  all 
else  was  forgotten  save  that  the  last  day  had  passed 
and  to-morrow  they  must  part. 

She  sat  with  a book  in  her  hand,  her  head  drooped, 
cheek  resting  on  the  other  palm,  feeling  utterly 
weary,  and  almost  glad  that  to-morrow  this  blessed 
agony  of  seeing  him  would  end. 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  light  of  love  shining  in 
his  eyes.  Something  had  happened  that  was  far 
beyond  the  reach  of  fairy  tales. 

“You  go  from  me  to-morrow,  my  wife,  but  you 
cannot  take  from  my  heart  the  love  that  never  dies. 
You  may  go,  but  never  can  be  taken  from  me  the 
joy  you  have  brought  for  a brief  day;  none  can  take 
away  my  new-found  faith  and  the  comfort  of  Jesus — 
so  I have  much  to  be  thankful  for.” 

She  did  not  stir,  but  sat  with  lowered  eyes,  while 
the  man  opposite  continued  to  gaze  on  her  sweet 
face  as  though  he  would  imprint  the  image  there 
for  eternity. 

“Life  without  you  will  be  only  a torn,  flimsy  rag 
— that  is  all,”  he  continued  with  slow,  earnest 
words.  “Since  I have  tasted  the  bitterness  of  losing 
you,  I can  dream  of  what  life  might  have  been  with 
you  to  guide  and  steady  me,  to  share  the  thoughts 
that  I have  kept  untouched  by  the  world.  Ah,  yes, 
(228) 


In  the  Home  of  Her  Husband 


229 


it  might  have  been!  I read  of  the  way  that  women 
are  wooed  in  the  West.  I brought  you  here,  hoping 
that  I might  win  your  love.  I have  failed.  I am  not 
worthy  such  a priceless  treasure.” 

Still  no  response  from  the  passive  Kumokie.  Her 
face  was  as  white  as  ivory,  and  at  these  last  words  a 
low  sob  came  from  her  parted  lips,  and,  with  some- 
thing of  wonder,  she  lifted  her  tear-dimmed  eyes  to 
his. 

“Forgive  me!  O,  forgive  me!  I did  not  realize 
how  cruel  I have  been,  my  wife.  My  words  are 
wild.  I have  hurt  you.  I dreamed  that  I could 
steal  you  away  and  by  kindness  win  your  love.  But 
I have  failed,  and  I must  try  not  to  make  you  mis- 
erable or  unhappy.  Go,  and  then  forget  if  you  can, 
and  I will  free  you  before  the  law  from  the  mean- 
ingless bonds  of  a marriage  which  is  less  than  noth- 
ing and  which  is  distasteful  to  you.  Go  to-morrow; 
you  are  free.  But  how  different  it  might  have  been 
if  you  only  loved  me.” 

Quick  as  light  Kumokie  sprang  to  her  feet.  The 
cheeks  so  pale  a moment  before  were  flushed,  and 
her  eyes,  bright  as  twin  stars,  flashed  in  indignant 
protest.  Tense  and  low  she  spoke:  “Hush!  How 
can  you  speak  thus?  From  the  time  when  you  came 
to  my  house  my  chosen  husband,  all  during  the  dark 
days  of  a miserable  childhood,  you  were  my  life  and 
joy.  When  you  left  me,  Noch  Kyung,  without  a 
thought  or  a care  for  my  future,  the  light  of  heaven 
died  for  me,  and  many  times  my  thought  turned 
with  longing  to  the  peace  and  oblivion  of  the  dark 
pool  under  the  cliff.  Love?  What  do  you  know  of 
love?” 


230  Kumokie — A Bride  of  Old  Korea 

Husband  and  wife  faced  each  other  in  the  fast- 
fading rays  of  the  setting  sun.  In  his  face  was  a 
light  as  of  hope  newly  kindled. 

“You  love  me,  my  beloved?  Then  why,  Kumokie, 
do  you  leave  me  thus?”  He  took  a step  toward 
her,  but  she  stopped  him  with  uplifted  hand. 

“Do  you  not  understand  yet,  Noch  Kyung,  that 
while  I love  you  better  than  life,  I would  die  rather 
than  do  what  I know  to  be  wrong  and  sinful.  Cu- 
sagie,  your  small  wife,  the  mother  of  your  children, 
is  your  real  wife  before  God.” 

“My  wife,  my  own,  listen.  Cusagie  died  over  a 
year  ago,  during  the  ‘flu’  epidemic!  I thought  you 
knew  and  that  you  did  not  care.” 

“Dead?  Then  there  is  nothing  between  us?” 
“There  is  nothing  between  us  if  you  love  me,”  and 
with  tender  pleading,  he  extended  his  arms.  “ Come, 
Kumokie,  my  bride,  my  wife.” 

With  a little  yearning  cry,  she  flung  herself  into 
those  dear,  welcome  arms  and  clung  tremblingly  to 
him.  At  last  she  had  found  love  and  rest  in  her  hus- 
band’s home.  No  words  were  needed.  Silently  Noch 
Kyung  drew  the  precious  burden  closer  and  laid  his 
lips  against  the  shining  thick  hair.  There  was  less 
passion  and  more  benediction  in  it  than  in  most 
betrothal  kisses.  To  Kumokie,  standing  on  the 
brink  of  love  and  life,  it  brought  a thrill  of  sweet  se- 
curity and  deep,  unfathomable  peace. 


